The Swan and the Nightingale
by doubleox515
Summary: Underage and afraid, Lukas heads into the horror that is the frontlines of France. From 1915 onwards, there are many surprises, and Lukas' new friend Matthias is also full of surprises. Nothing is as it seems: on the fronts or at home in London. Going through the terrors of war and when Matthias' secrets are revealed, the pair learn that only their love will keep them together.
1. Chapter 1

**Full summary:**

Underage, afraid and determined to be free from the tidings of marriage, Lukas Bondevik swirls into the horror that is the frontlines of France. The years following 1915 are ones full of surprises, and Lukas' newly-formed friend Matthias Køhler is, also, one full of surprises. Nothing is as it seems, either on the frontlines in France or at home in London. Going through the terrors of war, the moments when Matthias' biggest secrets are revealed, the consequences of marriage and affairs, the pair learn that the only thing that keeps them alive, that keeps them on the edge of sanity, is their undying love for each other. WWI AU. Human AU.

 **Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

 **Warning: This story will involve several mature and strong references. These include graphic violence, mentions of war, sexual themes, elements of homophobia, marital/domestic/sexual abuse, mention of child abuse/neglect, injury, swearing, mentions/consequences of rape.**

* * *

 _May, 1915, London_

 **.**

'Your name, son?'

Swallowing, the boy discreetly straightened his shoulders and said, 'Lukas Bondevik, sir.'

The officer whom he was standing in front of wrote it down on a huge piece of paper that stretched from one end of the table to the other. Lukas licked his lips and tried to drown out the sounds around him, focusing only on what was happening at that point. What he could hear, however, was the endless chatter of the countless men in line behind him. He never knew there were so many men in London… but it appeared that desperate times called for desperate measures.

The officer's voice brought him back to earth. 'Alright, Mister Bondevik, may I see your birth certificate?'

Nodding once, Lukas felt his blood run cold. This was it. If this failed, he would have nowhere to run. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a crumpled, folded piece of paper and held it out for the officer to take. Once it went into his hands, Lukas sucked in a deep breath. He watched as the officer unfolded it and his eyes moved across the black print.

'Tell me your birthday?'

Lukas let out the breath. 'The seventeenth of May, 1897, sir.'

The officer glanced up at him, peering at him over his rounded glasses. 'So you celebrated your eighteenth birthday earlier this week?'

'Yes, sir. We had a garden party and lots of guests,' Lukas told him.

 _Lies._

There was a pregnant pause in which Lukas and the officer merely stared at each other, the latter's eyes roving up and down Lukas' figure. Then the officer bowed his head, picked up a pen and wrote some things down. Lukas gazed at his shoes quickly before being met with a stack of papers when he lifted his head back up.

'Follow these instructions, son,' the officer said to him, his tone grave. 'You will receive word of when you are to be deployed to the frontline. For now, focus on your training, listen to your superiors and prepare yourself as much as you can. It is wartime, boy.' He held out his hand and Lukas took it, shaking it once. 'Godspeed, soldier, and good luck.'

Lukas smiled gently, thanked the officer and made his way out the long, winding line of able-bodied men. He grinned inwardly as his eyes landed on his papers.

 _Well, that was_ much _easier than I'd thought it would be._ He headed for the exit of the registry. _Excellent._

The plan was in motion. Now all he had to do was wait until training was over and then… his journey would begin.

 **.**

 _Three months later_

 **.**

Looking away from the tracks—his eyes, again, locking onto a particular sight—Lukas scowled.

'This is just not fair,' he mumbled under his breath.

Lukas was standing on the platform of the local train station, waiting for the train that would take him to his post on the frontline to arrive. The three months of training, of drills and early wake-up calls, of going to bed with jellied legs and headaches that disturbed his sleep, had come to this. He was to be deployed, that very day, towards the frontlines of France. Where in France he was to be stationed, Lukas didn't know yet. So there he was, fiddling with the hems of his new uniform, waiting patiently for his train to come chugging into the station.

Yet, instead of being on the lookout for the train, his eyes had landed on another soldier nearby, having done a double take when he had seen him upon entry. He was leaning against one of the many columns of the station, rolling back the sleeve of his uniform to, no doubt, check the time. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had what to Lukas looked like a mop of blond hair peeking out from underneath his hat. Lukas saw him puff his cheeks out and frown, jiggling his leg impatiently as he directed his gaze towards the tunnel.

If this man was just another soldier, Lukas would have moved his gaze away from him immediately. But there was something about the man that drew Lukas to him. Perhaps it was how young he looked, or the way he held himself, or perhaps even how _good_ he looked in his uniform—

 _Lukas, snap out of it!_ Tearing his eyes away from the mysterious soldier, Lukas sighed. _You'll get into trouble if you go down that path. He is a man, as are you—what are your chances? Never mind that he is handsome as hell, you'll get arrested and possibly hang._

'This is just not fair… not at all,' he mumbled under his breath again.

But that didn't stop him from glancing over to the soldier once more, just to satisfy himself. He had been doing so the moment he had seen him, and he kept telling himself, _just one more look_ , every five minutes.

It was when he had glanced at the soldier for, perhaps, the thirtieth time, that a shrill whistle pierced the air. There was movement on the platform, the other soldiers picking up their bags and rifles as the train slowed to a stop in front of them. Lukas followed their lead, taking the bag by his feet and slinging his rifle onto his shoulder. His boots thumped as he made his way through the throng of soldiers over to a carriage—he found a mostly vacant one towards the end of the train, and hopping on, Lukas quickly turned back to drink in the empty platform. Who knew when he would be back in London? _If I come back at all, that is…_

Straightening his back, Lukas went in search of a compartment. He passed by a few that were already full, seeing how many soldiers were already becoming fast friends with each other. There was a range amongst them all: young, old, tall, short, stocky, lanky—it was amazing how much variety there was. Walking by, Lukas also heard, faintly, a range of accents. He picked out a few Londoners, but most of them sounded Northern or out from Liverpool and Manchester, even York—and was that someone from Northumberland that he heard? He was also sure that he had heard a Scotsman in the third compartment from where he had entered…

It took him about twenty minutes, moving forward in the narrow corridor, to find an empty compartment. Not wasting a single second, Lukas slid open the door and shut it softly behind him. The compartment wasn't the biggest he had ever been in, but it looked comfortable. The seats were a dark red, with two netted storages above them. Taking the seat nearest to the window, Lukas quickly took out his book, his notepad and a pencil before putting his bag in the net. He had to get onto his toes to do so because he was still small, being six—no, _eighteen_. He had a moment of confusion as to where to put his rifle, but in the end, he found a crevice in-between the window and his seat. Once Lukas got comfortable, he heard the guard's whistle blow long and loud, and he felt the pistons of the train beneath his feet begin to move.

As the platform moved away, Lukas didn't look at it at all. Instead, he opened his book—a copy of Conrad's _Heart of Darkness_ —and drank in the words of the page. He lost himself in the vivid imagery, the tale of Marlow's journey in the Congo and on the river. He imagined himself as Marlow, on a journey into the unknown, the Congo as France, the danger imminent and mysterious… Lukas wondered if his own Kurtz would be at the end of the line, perhaps in the form of a German.

He had read the book so many times that he knew the story inside out, had memorised it. He had many favourites, including Jane Austen's and the Brontë sisters' novels, but he couldn't exactly bring a copy of _Sense & Sensibility _or _Wuthering Heights_ —he would be laughed at. So _Heart of Darkness_ was his only choice at that stage.

Lukas didn't know how long it had been since the train had left the station, but as he got a quarter of the way through his book, there was a knock on the compartment door. Glancing up, Lukas felt his heart stop when he saw a familiar face looking through the middle window of the compartment door. Opening it, the soldier Lukas had been admiring on the platform stepped in, smiling sheepishly.

'Hello—sorry to interrupt your reading,' he said, pointing to Lukas' book, 'but I was wondering if anyone else was sitting in here?'

Blinking at him once, Lukas shook his head and gestured to the seats. 'Go ahead.'

The soldier grinned, and thanked Lukas as he shut the door. He then dug through his bag and, like Lukas, took out a notepad and a pencil before chucking his bag in the overhead netting. He, unlike Lukas, had no trouble getting his bag into the storage and had no need to get onto his toes—Lukas deduced that he was probably much older than him, and therefore, had more of a reason to be taller. He, also like Lukas, was puzzled with the placing of his rifle. Scratching his head, it took him a minute to notice the gap between the seats and the window, and he followed Lukas' lead and tucked his rifle in the space opposite Lukas'. Satisfied, the soldier sat in the other corner of the compartment, near the door, on the opposite side where Lukas was sitting. He watched as the soldier took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pockets, and as he rested his now open notepad on his thigh.

But of course, Lukas wasn't watching what this handsome stranger was doing. No, he was reading. Of course he was. He went back to Marlow and the Congo.

A few minutes later, however, a series of quiet curses met his ears. Lukas, again, looked up from his book to see the soldier struggling to light his cigarette. With a cigarette between his lips, the soldier's thumb flicked against the igniter, but to no avail. Lukas fought hard to hide a smile.

'Would you like some help?'

The soldier lifted his head, his eyes round in surprise. Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he smiled embarrassedly at Lukas. 'Yes, please. Blasted thing won't work.'

Holding his hand out for the lighter, Lukas smiled softly at the soldier as he shifted down his seat to be directly opposite Lukas. Taking it from him, Lukas managed to get the flame going instantly, and he nearly laughed at the shocked look on the soldier's face.

'That's not fair,' he grumbled, moving forward to light the tip against the flame. 'I've been trying to work the damn thing all day!'

'It takes a certain skill,' Lukas told him. Once the soldier had lit his cigarette, Lukas bit his cheek to stop smiling once he started coughing, making a face. 'As does the act of smoking itself.'

The soldier sighed. 'Can't win today. But to be fair, I've never smoked before. Thought it was high time to learn, you know, since we're going to war,' he said matter-of-factly. Digging out his packet from his pocket, he handed it to Lukas. 'Want one?'

Lukas didn't usually smoke—in fact, he had only ever smoked one cigarette in his entire life. But he was determined to listen to this soldier's voice, to make contact with him in any way possible—so he grabbed one, lit it and blew out a haze of smoke expertly. He saw the soldier's expression turn impressed and Lukas shrugged offhandedly at it, for it hadn't taken him much effort to smoke in the first place. He wordlessly returned the lighter to the soldier, who put it into the breast pocket of his uniform along with the rest of the cigarettes.

'I'm Matthias, by the way,' the soldier said to him, holding out a hand. 'Matthias Køhler.'

Shaking his hand, Lukas paused, thinking deeply. He then asked, ' _Er du norsk?'_

Matthias froze, confused, then laughed loudly. 'No, no. I'm Danish, born in Denmark, but I've lived in England for as long as I can remember. I take it you're Norwegian?'

Lukas nodded. 'Lukas Bondevik.'

Grinning, Matthias let go of his hand and puffed at his cigarette. 'Pleasure to meet you, Mister Lukas.'

Saying something similar, Lukas took in his new companion. He was far more handsome up close, and Lukas found himself feeling very flustered as his eyes roved over Matthias' features. He had large shoulders and long legs, both of which fit very nicely in the uniform. Lukas' suspicion of Matthias having blond hair was proven correct when Matthias dumped the hat beside him, running a hand through the fair strands, an action which made Lukas shift in his seat. What Lukas had also failed to see from a distance were the strong line of his jaw, how bloody _bright_ his eyes were—a pale blue that made Lukas have chills—and how there were thousands of freckles covering his entire face. It was cute, and Lukas found himself wondering just how many there were.

He hid behind his book, feeling his cheeks grow warm. If he stared any longer, he would die of humiliation. But Matthias clearly wasn't going to let a silence settle.

'What are you reading?'

Lukas merely showed the cover. He heard Matthias hum in interest and say, 'I've heard it's a good book, but I never got around to reading it. What is it about, exactly?'

Peering from over the top of the pages, Lukas raised a curious eyebrow. He took a puff of his cigarette and said, 'You really want to know?'

Matthias nodded, coughing again when he, too, took a drag. He tried again, succeeded and sent Lukas a victorious smile. Lukas shook his head, but he could feel the corners of his mouth begin to rise up in a smile. This man was just too contagious, a fact that alarmed Lukas a little bit. He was, after all, renowned for being a stoic, silent person, one who spoke very little and who kept to himself. Yet here was Matthias, challenging all of that in the space of twenty minutes.

Lukas didn't know what to think. All he did know was that all this was, perhaps, the start of something new.

 **.**

The next hour passed by rather quickly. No one by that point in time had come and sat in the same compartment as Lukas and Matthias, a fact which Lukas was grateful for—he wasn't keen about sharing Matthias with anyone just yet. He had seen how friendly Matthias had been with some other soldiers at the station before they had left, and the last thing Lukas wanted was for other men to take his companion away, especially now that they had become friends. At least, that was what Lukas thought… Maybe Matthias didn't think the same way? Lukas certainly had no clue.

During that hour, Lukas, as per Matthias' request, told him about _Heart of Darkness_ , and Matthias listened intently as Lukas described Marlow's journey in the Congo, about how Kurtz's determination for ivory had resulted in something far more sinister, how the language and the imagery in the novel was so vibrant and alive that it was impossible not to wonder what on earth was going to happen next, what the truth behind everything was. Lukas had gotten a pleasant surprise once Matthias begun asking questions, genuinely intrigued by what Lukas was telling him. Lukas had never been on the receiving end of such attentiveness, nor had he spoken as much as he did then in his life, but he was enjoying every minute—and so, it seemed, did Matthias.

Their topic shifted from Lukas' novel to Matthias' telling Lukas about his interest in poetry, and Lukas listened as Matthias told him all about the beauty of Eliot and Coleridge, of Shelley, Arnold and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Lukas had never known someone who was so passionate about poetry, least of all a man. He was absolutely fascinated by what Matthias was telling him, even more so by the sound of his voice.

Before they knew it, Lukas and Matthias had become fast friends. Even though Matthias was by far the loudest and most talkative person he had ever met, Lukas found those pleasant qualities about him. As time passed and as the train rumbled through the English countryside, Lukas began to hope that once the war was over, he and Matthias would remain good friends—who knew, they might even become best friends!

About two hours later, Lukas found out what purpose Matthias' notepad served. He took out the pencil from behind his ear where it had been staying for the last little bit, and he looked hopeful as he asked Lukas, 'I know this is sudden but… are you okay with me drawing you? I've been stuck for inspiration lately and have been dying to draw something.'

Lukas sent him a look. 'Are you sure you want draw someone as plain as me?'

Matthias smiled softly at him. 'Lukas, you are far from plain. Please?'

At the wide-eyed and pouted look Matthias gave him, Lukas' face went red. He sighed, and agreed begrudgingly. Matthias let out a triumphant sound, and Lukas told him, 'Just don't do anything stupid, okay?'

'Now why would I do that?' Matthias rested his notepad on his knee and gazed at Lukas. 'Why would I ruin a perfectly good-looking guy?'

Lukas had no answer for him. All he did was lift his book up, determined not to show the growing blush on his cheeks. He heard Matthias chuckle, and the very sound nearly made Lukas scream in frustration.

Was God playing with him? Was all of this some horrible attempt at a joke? Matthias was the kindest and most pure soul Lukas had ever met in his petty six— _eighteen_ —years. There was merely one other person he knew who had a similar personality to Matthias, whose friendship he cherished with every fibre of his being. They were the only, true friend of Lukas', had been for nearly four years—so for Lukas to meet Matthias, as he was, was nothing short of shocking. But as Matthias started to draw, cigarette dangling from his lips, Lukas' mouth formed into a small, grateful smile.

A silence fell upon them for the next hour and a half. They took a break at some point to sample some beef sandwiches Lukas had made for the train, since he had been unsure if food would have been served. Matthias had enlightened him by telling him, 'I'm not sure if there is food on this train, but I overheard some of the others saying something about getting food when we stop at a small station near Ashford, and then again before Folkestone. No doubt we'll need lots of nourishment before we head off to France. Who knows how long this boat ride to Calais is going to last?'

Lukas, of course, had forgotten all about the boat to Calais. He was not looking forward to it, and he scowled when Matthias laughed at his misfortune.

'Don't worry,' he had said to him, 'I'll be there to rub your back as you spew over the pristine side of the ship.'

He had gotten a crust thrown in his face for the comment and a backhanded, 'I do not _spew_ , Køhler!'

Nothing more was said on the subject after that. In fact, neither said another word until the sky outside had darkened, and when the lamps in the compartment flickered to life. It was then that Matthias set down his pencil, putting it back behind his ear, and sighed appreciatively at his work, flipping a few pages back and forth. Lukas had just finished _Heart of Darkness_ , and at Matthias' sigh, he gazed curiously at his companion as he shut the cover.

'You can have a look if you like,' Matthias told him, giving Lukas his notepad—or was it a sketchbook? 'I can use some critiques, so feel free to comment!'

Swallowing, Lukas brought the sketchbook towards him and, upon seeing Matthias' sketches, his eyebrows flew into his hairline.

The page was covered with Lukas' face. Each face had a different expression—some were him looking annoyed, sarcastic or bored, but the rest of them, the majority…

Had he really let himself go so much that Matthias had managed to get his _smile?_

He was in awe, both at himself and the utter perfection of Matthias' work. The drawings were so detailed that Lukas could make out the lines in the lips, the creases in his clothes, the perfect arch of his eyebrows… He turned the pages, gaping at the range of positions and situations Matthias had drawn him in. There was one where he was just reading, another where he was eating his sandwich, and the last one was of him staring out of the train window.

A clearing of a throat brought Lukas back to the real world, and his eyes settled on Matthias' nervous face.

'So… what do you think?' he asked, his voice soft, scared.

Lukas shook his head. 'I have no words, if I'm going to be completely honest with you. I'm speechless… these are beyond beautiful.'

Matthias' eyes lit up and a huge smile graced his lips. 'Really?'

Nodding, Lukas ran the tips of his fingers down the side of the page, careful not to smudge the sketch. He sent Matthias a look. 'I don't really look like this. You've made me into some… overly handsome fellow.'

'But you are an overly handsome fellow,' Matthias retorted. 'Why do you think I drew you?'

If it hadn't already, Lukas was absolutely certain that if Matthias continued like this, his heart would give out by the end of the night.

Determined to change the topic, away from his supposed "good looks", Lukas asked Matthias for the time. Moving his sleeve back, Matthias glanced at his watch and said, 'It's nearly eight.'

Lukas glanced out the window, taking in the faint silhouettes of a nearby wooded green. 'Still a long way to go…'

'We're probably going to get to France by the end of the week,' Matthias said wisely, following Lukas' lead and looking out the train window. 'Hopefully our acquaintance won't turn to shit by then.'

Tearing his gaze away from outside world, Lukas faced Matthias and frowned. He knew that what he had just said was false. It was odd, but in the space of the train ride thus far, Lukas had never felt so at home with another person, so at ease with the sound of someone's voice, someone's presence. He must have gone completely mad but… Lukas felt that he had known the man forever, like he had known him since before he could talk.

He was utterly crazy. _Must have been something in that sandwich…_

However, to his amazement, Matthias locked eyes with him and said quietly, 'I know it's sudden I said that… but you know, Luke… it's weird, but it feels like I've known you for years!'

At "Luke", Lukas nearly choked in surprise. Now _that_ was new…

Matthias then laughed softly, ran a hand through his hair and continued with, 'We click so well, you know?'

 _Well… that was unexpected._

But Lukas found himself nodding and he smiled a little bit at Matthias. His mouth ran faster than his brain as he whispered, shyly, 'Hopefully we both survive this war in order to remain friends.'

As soon as the words lay in the air, Lukas' cheeks burned in embarrassment and he suddenly became very interested in his shoes. It took him a moment to calm himself before he could look Matthias in the eye again, and he was overwhelmed with gladness when he saw Matthias' mouth stretched to his ears in joy and that he was nodding hurriedly.

'Yeah, yeah, I'd love that!' he whispered, wonder embedded in his tone. 'We'll definitely still be friends!'

Lukas' heart soared.

There was a moment's pause.

'Lukas?' When Lukas hummed in query, Matthias clasped his hands together in his lap. 'Be honest… but how old are you? Really?'

Sending him a puzzled look, Lukas replied immediately with, 'I'm eighteen, no doubt the same as you.'

Matthias stared at him blankly. Lukas swallowed slowly. _He knows… doesn't he? Oh god._

'Well… in that case, I am "eighteen" too,' Matthias whispered, fingers drawing quotation marks in the air, followed by a wink.

Lukas felt his world freeze. Did he… Did he hear that right?

'You're underage.'

Matthias leant back in his seat, crossed his arms and let out a long breath through his nose. 'So are you.'

'How old?'

'I asked you first, Luke.'

Hesitating, Lukas weighed his options. He could tell Matthias the truth and risk falling into a trap—or he could blatantly lie, insist that yes, he _was_ eighteen, and lose Matthias' trust in him forever. Neither outcome was ideal. Lukas groaned inwardly. _What a dilemma…_

Staring intently at Matthias, Lukas decided on the truth. It was a huge risk, and it could possibly be the biggest mistake he was making… but he, strangely, trusted Matthias.

So gulping heavily, Lukas straightened his back and said, 'Sixteen. I'm sixteen.'

Matthias' brows disappeared into his hairline and his mouth fell open. 'Shit, really? God, I thought you were at least seventeen!' He laughed loudly and Lukas' confusion only deepened. 'To think I'm not the only one… This is _great!_ '

Lukas' eyes widened. 'You're sixteen as well?' _You're very tall for sixteen…_

Shaking his head incredulously, Matthias chuckled softly to himself. 'What a day.' Then he grew serious and he scanned Lukas with his eyes. 'Why?'

His blood went cold. There were a few reasons why Lukas had joined the army, but his main reason was one he wasn't particularly keen to talk about. Being the heir to a family estate came with its complications, especially when Lukas had deep-rooted, traditionalised parents—their purpose in life was to have a secure position in society, a secure place in the home, a secure income, and that led to, inevitably, wanting a secure future for their son. While Lukas could understand their intentions, the way in which they had gone about the ordeal had left him feeling violated and more stressed out than anything else. Sick and tired of being treated as… he didn't know what, Lukas had falsified his birth certificate and joined the army the first chance he got. Since then, Lukas had felt nothing but _relief_ , for if he had to take another woman through the gardens of the Bondevik Manor, playing niceties and polishing his fake smile, he knew he would have gone insane.

What he told Matthias was, albeit rather reluctantly, 'I got tired of being treated as a prize. As a thing to be won over rather than a person. It is not something I wish to discuss, but all you need to know is that marriage and inheritance were in question. You might call me running away and joining the army a cruel punishment to my parents for behaving the way they did, but to be honest with you, I had had enough, more than… It was time to put an end to it.' He sniffed and added, 'Plus I wanted to do some good for our country. When the army needs more men, they need more men. Kitchener's advertisements won me over in the end. Don't get me wrong, I'm scared but… war is war, Matthias. We all need to do our bit in some way.'

When he had finished, Lukas studied Matthias' startled expression. His mouth dried, suddenly feeling exposed, like Matthias was judging him for his horrible actions against his parents.

But then Matthias blinked, let out a low whistle and said to Lukas, 'That's… that's the most honest answer I've heard since I signed up.'

Lukas raised an eyebrow. 'Is that so?'

Matthias nodded. 'Every man I've talked to so far—young, old, privates, generals—have all said something similar. "The Germans must be punished," and "We have a duty to protect!" They're all so… faux. They're all saying the exact same thing, but in different words.' Matthias sent him a grateful smile. 'Thank you for being the first person to give me a straight answer.'

Merely shrugging, Lukas told him seriously, 'What's the point in lying? Pride? Honour? What are they in the end? No… better to be honest with someone and yourself than to pretend to be something you aren't.' Lukas looked at Matthias. 'And you? What is your reason for joining?'

The smile on Matthias' face faltered at Lukas' question, something that made him very curious. He became even more so when Matthias tore his gaze from Lukas and, instead, focused it on the moving world outside. Given the darkness of night and the flickering lamp lights in the compartment, Matthias' serious expression made him appear eerie. Shadows danced along the planes of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw, and the orange light of the lamps made the colour of his eyes stand out.

It was a full minute before Matthias spoke. 'Well, there is the same reason as you, with Kitchener and duty and all that. But I suppose my main reason… My family… They've never been the most supportive—except for my older brother, Berwald. He's in the army too, although he is actually eighteen, unlike us,' he told Lukas, and Lukas was intrigued by the distant tone to his voice. 'My parents wanted me to play a… uh, well, a particular role in the house and I wasn't pleased with it.'

Matthias shifted in his seat and he smiled sheepishly at Lukas, no doubt feeling the same exposure as Lukas had. But it only lasted a second as, after letting out a short sound, he went on to say, 'It makes me sound ungrateful, but I assure you, it wasn't— _isn't_ I should say—the best of roles. It is derogatory… and to be fair, I've always hated how conservative my family is! They wanted me to marry last year—at fifteen, would you believe?—and I told them no. But they're persistent, so I escaped before they could plan a wedding without my permission.' He leant his head against the back of the seat, his expression blank and his eyes fixated on something far, far away. 'I just want my own life, you know?'

Lukas agreed with him and chuckled lowly. _Maybe we're not so unlike as I thought…_ Who would have thought that Matthias had similar concerns regarding marriage as him? But there was something in the way Matthias had spoken that had thrown Lukas off course. He couldn't quite put his finger on it…

Out loud, he said, 'Families, huh? They're just a headache if you ask me.'

He found himself smiling when Matthias laughed, his good-natured smile coming back onto his face. _Back where it should be_ , Lukas thought.

'Yes, but probably not as much of a headache as other things,' Matthias stated, grinning at Lukas. He paused for a moment, his face thoughtful before he asked, 'You got a girl at home?'

At that, Lukas didn't hesitate to grimace and shake his head immediately. 'No… To be honest, I don't have the highest opinion of women at the moment—especially rich women. They're all fake, trying to put on some kind of façade. I've had enough of them for a lifetime.'

Glancing at Matthias, Lukas was astonished to see that his smile was a little forced—why that was, Lukas didn't have the slightest idea. Much to his pleasure, it relaxed a little when Lukas went on to add, 'No, I want my girl to be a real one, not covered in jewels and dainty mannerisms, thank you very much. But how about you?' he aimed at Matthias, determined to move the topic away from himself. 'Surely a good-looking man such as yourself has a pretty lady by his side?'

Matthias' face formed into a vacant one. He sniffed and smiled wryly. 'Nah. No girl has ever liked me—and why should they?' He winked at Lukas. 'But that's another story.'

They fell into a peaceful silence then, and all through it, Lukas couldn't stop staring at Matthias. He watched as Matthias played with his fingers in his lap, and it was only then that Lukas zeroed in on his fingers and _wow.._. He had never seen a man's hands look so nice, to be so smooth, let alone have such long fingers and be free of callouses. But that thought was quickly quashed from his mind, for all he could think about was how there was something that Matthias wasn't saying. There was an aura of secrecy surrounding this man, and before they went to sleep for the night, Lukas vowed, full of determination, that he would find out exactly what those secrets were.

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I am not dead! Just been busy with uni, but I present you all with this. This is my story for the Hetalia Big Bang Challenge 2017 that is being held on Tumblr :) I've had so much fun with this story and I'm so proud of myself for finally completing a chaptered story! :o That being said, I will try and work hard on _Friction_ (I haven't forgotten, I promise).**

 **Now, to give credit where credit is due: a massive thank you to mimizuku9 (Tumblr)** **for all your hard work with editing/betaing this story. I appreciate everything you've done and all the lovely comments you've thrown my way. Also please check out the two artists who are drawing for this story: shikerii (Tumblr) and ultramarineicecream (Tumblr) ^ ^**

 **Also check out hetaliabigbang on Tumblr as well to see the other stories and artworks that are going to be posted! There will be a masterpost done around the 31st, so keep an eye out!**

 **(sorry for the lack of Tumblr URLS, ff . net won't have them in full :(((( )**

 **I hope you all enjoy the story, and reviews are always appreciated! I'll be posting the first 20K in the next few days, and then I'll post the rest of the chapters weekly from there on out :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

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Gripping the boat's edge on the upper deck, Lukas swallowed and let out a shaky breath. 'Matthias…' he croaked. 'How much further to land?'

Feeling Matthias' hand on his back, he heard him whisper, 'They said at least another hour. It'll fly by, Lukas.'

Lukas merely groaned.

The journey across the Channel had, by far, been the worst Lukas had ever experienced in his life. While he hadn't emptied the contents of his stomach throughout it—or at least, not yet—Lukas did spend the majority of the trip either hanging onto the railing of the ship's edge or curled into a ball in bed. His stomach was, clearly, not made for the open water, which was ironic considering most of his male relatives, including his father, had all been merchants or officers in the navy.

Lukas couldn't believe his luck. He just hoped his stomach would survive the rest of the way to France.

Matthias, true to his word, did keep Lukas company, rubbing his back whenever he felt nauseated or simply talking to him to keep his mind off the churning happening in his abdomen. Lukas was grateful for his presence, even more so for his kindness.

But at least he wasn't the only one suffering. There were a few other soldiers in a similar position as Lukas—however, unlike Lukas, their stomachs had given in several times throughout the course of the trip, and none of them had a good friend as Lukas had Matthias. So he considered himself lucky.

Then, as the boat underwent a sudden bump in the waves, Lukas whimpered quietly, holding in his breath for as long as possible, or until the queasiness went away. Matthias rubbed small circles in the middle of his back and, after a few minutes, held out his open packet of cigarettes.

'Take one,' he said to him softly. 'It might help.'

Once he was sure that he wasn't going to heave over the edge, Lukas shakily grabbed one and waited until Matthias got the lighter working before dragging in a huge puff. Matthias had gotten the hang of working his lighter, and he always sent Lukas a look of triumph every time he did so, including then. Exhaling the smoke through his nose, Lukas started to feel slightly better—not much, but at least it took his mind off of it. Rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, Lukas mumbled a note of gratitude and let loose a small smile at Matthias' enthusiastic, 'You're welcome!'

They spent the next few moments in silence. A gentle breeze flew over the deck, ruffling the stray strands of hair that were not tucked under their hats. Lukas saw Matthias puffing at his own cigarette as he rested his arms on the railing, his eyes scanning the open water. If Lukas wasn't feeling so sick, he would have made the effort to initiate a conversation—but since he was still groggy and feeling horrible, he preferred to listen to the sound of Matthias' voice, which he heard soon enough.

'You know, Luke,' Matthias began in a light tone, 'maybe it's a good thing you didn't sign up for the navy. You wouldn't have lasted a week!'

Snorting, Lukas swung his arm back to hit Matthias in the stomach. 'Shut up.'

Letting out a yelp and clutching his abdomen, Matthias grunted out, 'Jesus, you hit hard for someone who's ill!'

Lukas chuckled. But when another humungous wave crashed into the hull of the boat, rocking them back and forth, Lukas' knuckles turned white and his eyes screwed shut as he tried to keep his stomach in check. Matthias' palm was back in between his shoulder blades and his voice soft in his ear, whispering to him that everything was going to be alright, it was almost over.

Soon enough, the long, dreadful journey was over. The boat docked at Calais—or near Calais, as they were told—and Lukas nearly cried in relief when his feet landed on solid ground. He took the moment to breathe in the fresh air and to stop his legs from trembling. It was amazing how, after immediately getting off the boat, Lukas' stomach felt normal again, and—not that he would admit this out loud—he was incredibly jealous of Matthias. Having stepped off after him, Matthias appeared perfectly fine: he walked normally, breathed normally, didn't complain of an uneasy stomach… How was that remotely fair?

When Matthias came to stand beside him, Lukas shot him a glare. 'How are you not dying?'

Matthias laughed. 'Looks like my stomach is made of stone _and_ I've got better sea legs than you!'

He shrieked and danced away from Lukas when he moved to hit him again, and he pouted when Lukas let out a quiet chuckle. 'You squeal like a girl.'

Matthias huffed indignantly. 'Well, I'm not a _girl_ , and at least I'm not squeamish like you!'

Instead of being offended, Lukas fought hard to not laugh or smile. _He's… strangely adorable._ Before he could say anything, however, there was movement amongst the soldiers who had already come off the boat. Matthias and Lukas glanced at each other before getting in line and beginning to follow the proceeding throng of men. Where they were going, Lukas wasn't certain, but he had the feeling they were heading straight for the massive trucks. No doubt they were going to the frontlines all across France, but instead of feeling calm, Lukas had dread crashing down on him. It hadn't occurred to him that Matthias might not be in the same battalion, nor be in the same place as him.

He wasn't ready to be parted from him! Lukas had _just_ become friends with him… There was no one else he could be friends with like he was with Matthias! No one! _God… please don't punish me like this… I need a friend._

Lukas' bad mood must have shown on his face for Matthias waved a hand in front of him, saying, 'Yoo-hoo… Earth to Lukas!'

Snapping out of his daze, Lukas looked up at Matthias and saw him pointing straight ahead. Following his gesture, Lukas came face-to-face with an officer. He had a grim expression, his mouth set in a thin line. Clearly, Lukas had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realised that he and Matthias had reached the front of the queue.

The officer held out his hand. 'Your papers please, soldier.'

Fishing his papers out of his pocket, Lukas swallowed as the officer's eyes scanned over the words on the paper. He held out his hand towards Matthias, who gave him his papers as well. Then the officer, after reading Matthias' papers, turned to a man behind him, another officer, only this one had a clipboard.

'Bondevik and Ko-ler,' the officer said to him.

'Actually, it's pronounced Kuhler—'

'Yes, sir, they're here,' the clipboard-officer stated, showing the main officer and cutting poor Matthias off.

'Very well.' The officer returned the papers to both men and raised his arm. 'You're stationed at a place between Reims and Verdun. You're a part of the thirty-third battalion and truck number twenty-seven will take you there. Godspeed, gentlemen.'

Saluting their senior officer, Matthias and Lukas started heading in the direction towards the huge line-up of trucks. From what Lukas had remembered from his years of schooling, the place they were headed to was east of Paris, heading towards the borders of Luxembourg and Belgium. Not that they would be heading to either of those countries, not now that the Germans had that side of the frontline to themselves. But Lukas wasn't entirely concerned with that. As Matthias walked in front of him, clearing a path to their truck, Lukas' eyes were focused on his back.

All he did was smile. _I'm not alone._

'Ah, here it is!' Matthias crowed, laughing as they reached their destination.

Lukas rolled his eyes half-heartedly, much too in good of a mood to be annoyed at Matthias' loudness. There were other soldiers already packed into the back of the truck, about fifteen or so, and, hopping in, Lukas and Matthias started making acquaintances immediately.

'What are your names, boys, and where're you from?' a red-haired and moustached man asked, his voice thick with what Lukas identified as a Scottish accent.

'I'm Matthias Køhler, and this is my friend Lukas Bondevik,' Matthias told him, and at "friend", Lukas felt his cheeks grow warm in delight. 'We're both from London.'

They shook hands with the other soldiers in the truck, gathering names and home towns, before the Scottish man spoke again. 'I'm Marcus Campbell, from Edinburgh, and I gather you're coming with us to a place "between Reims and Verdun"?'

Lukas cracked a smile. 'So he was ambiguous with you as well, then.'

'As ever!' Marcus cried. 'Since when are the officers straight with us privates, huh?'

'You got that right,' Samuel Roberts, a mousey-brown-haired and lanky boy muttered. He had introduced himself as being from Wales, south of Cardiff, and Lukas wondered if he was like him and Matthias: underage, ran away from home having sought escape, for he looked _very_ young.

'Well, we better stick together then, eh?' Matthias stated loudly, grinning hugely. 'All those in favour?'

After laughing, the entire truck shouted, 'Aye!' Lukas found himself feeling oddly happy. Scanning his eyes over the men in the truck, he somehow knew that they all would stay together until the war was over. _Or until we die._ He shook that thought out of his head and, instead, listened to the stories of the other soldiers as the truck roared to life and left the port, bumping along the road towards their station.

Little did any of those soldiers know that it was only the beginning of the end.

 **.**

 _Mid-October, two-and-half months later, the frontline between Reims and Verdun_

 **.**

Leaning against the edge of the trench wall, Lukas rubbed his hands together, blowing onto them to keep them warm. It was strangely cold that day, despite it being only October. The air was stagnant, as were all the soldiers hiding away on both sides of No man's land. Lukas was confused as to why they had seen so little action lately, but he was grateful for it. One more day of surviving and not in combat was good enough for him.

Since they had arrived, the battalion had seen very little action compared to the other hotspots across the country. They had been introduced to the French troops that were already there upon arrival, and even they had told them that this area was not very active. There had been the occasional artillery fire, the occasional cannon going off and the occasional endless firing into the unknown, but nothing that required them going 'over-the-top', a fact Lukas was pleased about. The less action they saw, the more chance of them going home unscathed.

'Luke, hey!'

Turning his head, Lukas saw Matthias walking towards him. He had a triumphant grin gracing his mouth and judging by the two bowls of food he had in his hands, he had every reason to be.

'I brought food!' Matthias told him, handing him a bowl when he reached him. 'Good thinking about me taking your papers—they wouldn't let me take two bowls at first!'

'What did you tell them?' Lukas asked him, stirring the broth they had been given that day with his spoon.

'I told them that you were doing important business for one of the captains and that you wouldn't be able to get your share of food for lunch! They believed me and here we are!'

Smiling gently, Lukas thanked Matthias for his efforts. His response was huge grin, one that made his stomach do flips. They sat down where it wasn't too muddy and began to eat. While it was beyond salty, Lukas didn't complain. It was rare to get good food these days, and anything that filled his stomach was a god-send. They were soon joined by Marcus, who greeted them with a loud 'Hello there!' and he plonked himself next to them.

They spent the next little while eating, commenting on the cold weather, on what the Germans might be plotting next, and it was just as the conversation turned to who was on night patrol for today when Marcus paused and tapped them on the knees.

'Chin-up, boys,' he whispered to them, pointing to the near distance. 'The colonials are here.'

Lukas raised an eyebrow at him and Matthias, with full cheeks, asked, 'Colonials?' When Marcus didn't answer, they turned their heads to where he had pointed. Sure enough, in the near distance, there was a group of freshly-dressed men coming right towards them. Matthias and Lukas exchanged an intrigued look as the group came to a halt a few metres away from them.

'Right, men!' an officer, no doubt a captain, addressed them. 'You know what to do.' He spread his arms out. 'Mingle.'

The soldiers saluted their leader and dispersed. The officer then came up to the trio and asked, with an accent Lukas couldn't identify, 'Sorry for interrupting your lunch, but can one of you tell me where I can find the general here?'

Marcus swallowed his mouthful of food and stood up. 'Yeah, right down that way,' he said, holding out an arm to their left. 'Just follow that path until you reach a fork. Go on down to the right and there should be a door to your left. He's in there.'

The officer slapped Marcus' shoulder and grinned. 'Cheers, soldier.' He left, whistling a cheerful tune.

Lukas was surprised. They hadn't seen fresh faces since they had been deployed. He saw Matthias watching the officer leave before he pulled an interested face. 'Well I'll be damned. I haven't heard _that_ accent before.'

'I'm telling you, they're the colonials!' Marcus told him. 'You know, the ones from down south? The end of the world?'

Eyebrows shooting into his hairline, Lukas blurted out, 'Australia? I thought they were down with the Ottomans?'

'That's what I heard too,' Marcus said wisely. 'But I also heard that their campaign down there was a complete massacre. Everything went to shit big time, and surprisingly, they're still going. I don't know why they're sending troops up here when they're needed more down in the Empire.'

'Because we were instructed—as we have been all along—by your generals to come here instead.'

Jolting at the new voice, the three men looked up to see a tall soldier staring at them. Despite his serious voice, he had a calm smile on his face and his dark eyes danced with mirth. He had tanned skin, with sunspots lining his cheeks and nose. Standing near him was another soldier, smaller and much thinner, black-haired and as pale as one could be. Both of them appeared to be rather young, twenty at the oldest, but Lukas was interested in the hats that were on their heads. Unlike their rounded helmets, these men had wide-brimmed hats, one end pinned to the head with a badge in the shape of what looked like a sun.

The smaller soldier spoke. 'Also, do you mind not calling us the colonials? Our nationalities do have names, you know.'

Hearing his voice, Lukas was astounded to detect yet another accent. _Perhaps Australia is full of accents like us,_ he thought.

Then Matthias got up, handing Lukas his now empty bowl to hold and held out his hand. 'Pardon our rudeness… Would you like to join us?'

The two soldiers grinned as they shook Matthias' hand in turn, and the taller one glanced at Marcus and Lukas. 'Sure, as long as your friends don't mind.'

Lukas smiled gently. 'Of course not. Take a seat, and be careful, it's awfully muddy.'

Leaning their rifles against the trench wall, near the three that were already there, the two men made themselves comfortable, trying hard not to get their immaculate uniforms dirty in the mud. Introductions were made: the taller soldier introduced himself as Jack Williams, from Sydney, and the shorter soldier introduced himself as Noah Taylor, from Auckland. It took Lukas a moment to realise that the reason Noah's accent was different was because he was from a different country, and once he did, he asked Jack and Noah both: 'How come you're part of the same battalion and have the same uniform if you're from different countries?'

Jack laughed. 'I don't know, but let me tell ya, it's a hell of a lot easier. Plus ANZAC makes more sense when you have both our countries involved.'

'ANZAC?' Matthias asked politely.

'Australia and New Zealand Army Corps,' Noah explained. 'I suppose they wanted to pair us up because we're neighbouring countries. Easier to deploy us both at the same time than to have us separately, you know.'

'Makes sense,' Marcus mumbled. He flashed them a grin. 'You boys hungry? I'm afraid there's not much in terms of proper food, but it's better to get something in ya stomachs than nothing.'

'Nah, we ate before we came,' Jack told him. 'But I think we can do with a bath. Is there anywhere we can do that?'

Marcus laughed loudly, crowing that of course there was a place where they could have a bath. He then asked Lukas and Matthias if they wanted to join, and while Lukas nodded—as he desperately needed to freshen up—Matthias shook his head and waved a dismissive hand.

'You guys go ahead. I'll stay here.'

Marcus frowned at that. 'Come on, Matt! You never join us! Stop being shy already! We're all men here.'

Lukas watched as Matthias merely chuckled. 'I would come, but I had one this morning. What's the point of having another one? Seriously, go on ahead without me. Leave your bowls with me and I'll see you later, yeah?'

Seeing no point in arguing, the men farewelled Matthias and headed towards the only stretch of water where they could bathe. As they walked, Lukas' mind wandered. This wasn't the first time Matthias had declined their offer of bathing together. In fact, throughout the two-and-a-half months they had been there, Lukas had noticed several things about Matthias that were _very_ strange. Compared to the other soldiers in the battalion, Matthias was _always_ the first one up in the morning—up at an ungodly hour, as Lukas referred to it—and as a result, Lukas never saw him getting dressed. Now that he thought about it, Lukas never saw Matthias dress or undress, shave or bathe with anyone. Even the few times the men had gone swimming, Matthias denied going, saying he wasn't a very good swimmer or that he didn't feel like it at the time.

It was all odd, and Lukas was getting suspicious, as were, no doubt, the rest of the battalion. As Lukas thought more and more about it, the closer he got to a possible conclusion. He could have been overthinking it a little bit, but what else could it possibly be? Reaching the end of the river, which was tucked away in their part of the trench, Lukas decided he would talk to Matthias about it soon and, hopefully, get an answer.

 **.**

The sun rose up beyond the trench walls, casting orange streaks across the sky as it announced a new day. Lukas was peacefully sleeping against one of the trench walls—since there was nowhere else to sleep these days—when he was gently shaken awake. Coming face-to-face with Matthias' smiling expression, Lukas rubbed his eyes and yawned.

'Sorry to wake you up,' Matthias whispered to him, 'but they're serving breakfast. I need your papers so I can get you a bowl.'

Sending Matthias a look, Lukas shook his head. 'You've been doing that for the past week. I'll do it this time.' He held out his hand for Matthias' papers, arching a brow in the meantime.

Matthias looked surprised, but he reached into his breast pocket and handed Lukas his papers. Standing up, Lukas stretched, his arms above his head and teetering on his toes. Sighing, he waved to Matthias and began to the long trek to the reserve trench, making sure his helmet was on and that his rifle was slung over his shoulder.

It had been three days since the ANZACs had arrived. During those three days, Marcus, Lukas and Matthias—and later on Samuel—saw it as their duties to show Jack and Noah around their new home. They showed them the many dugouts—most of them occupied by the lieutenants, captains and generals—the paths leading up to the other trenches behind their one, as well as good places to bathe. Throughout all that time, Lukas was mustering up the courage to talk to Matthias about his behaviour. But whenever he found an opportunity to talk to him, either something else came up or he lost the will to do it.

Walking through the support trench, Lukas vowed to himself that today was the day. He was going to talk to Matthias. He needed to know the truth…

Returning to Matthias with the food an hour later—as the line had been very long—they spent the next little while talking, eating and drinking. Lukas had pulled out his packet of cigarettes and offered one to Matthias once they had finished their so-called breakfast—something that was probably supposed to look like porridge—as means to get the bad taste out of their mouths. With a cigarette between their lips, the pair began to theorise why the Germans had been so quiet, why there had been no action happening that week. During this time, Lukas was trying very hard to raise the topic of Matthias' behaviour while he listened to Matthias bang on about how the Germans may have been spying on them, getting details on all their troops, given that the ANZACs and the French were there with them.

'We better be careful, huh?' Matthias said softly, blowing out a breath of smoke.

Lukas nodded. A pause fell between them and Lukas swallowed as he saw the opportunity. _Well… it's now or never then, eh? Do it, Lukas. Ask him already!_

'Matthias?' Lifting his head at his name, Matthias looked at him inquiringly. 'Can I ask you something? It's a little personal.'

Grinning, Matthias nodded as he went to sip some water from his little cup. Lukas sucked in a deep breath as he got in closer to Matthias, checking to see if anyone was within earshot. He didn't want other people to assume things, or worse, actually believe them before knowing the truth.

So Lukas whispered, as quietly as he could, 'Are you a homosexual?'

The reaction was immediate. Matthias moved away and spat out the water that had been in his mouth in shock, causing him to start coughing and choking. Lukas felt very sheepish, even more so when, coughing and spluttering, Matthias sent him a bemused look.

'Are you serious?' he asked Lukas, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 'What kind of a question is that?'

Lukas' face went red, a blush rushing across his cheekbones. But he stood his ground as he told Matthias why he had suspected that. He told him of his odd behaviour, of how suspicious he had made himself and how Lukas had noticed all of it. Once Matthias stopped choking, Lukas heard him swallow heavily and sigh dejectedly. Lukas noted that he didn't look particularly willing to answer the question, and Lukas panicked, feeling horribly guilty. _Have I just ruined our friendship? You and your fucking, big mouth, Lukas! Shit…_

But much to his astonishment, Matthias cleared his throat and puffed at his cigarette. He gazed at Lukas blankly before opening his mouth to speak, and for some reason, Lukas felt even guiltier for asking.

'It's complicated,' Matthias began, speaking softer than usual. 'But to answer your question, not exactly. It's hard to explain but uh… I like both?' He laughed sheepishly. 'And uh, well, to be honest with you, I've never been all that comfortable with dressing myself in front of others, or showing my body to anyone, really… Call it a childhood experience or whatever, but I've never… no, I just don't feel comfortable, that's all. Nothing against any of you, I promise! It's just something I've grown up with—hell, I never let my valet anywhere _near_ me in the morning! I dressed myself and everything.'

Matthias' features formed into worry and Lukas cocked his head to the side in confusion at it. Despite everything he had just said, Lukas found himself feeling relieved. While he had inwardly hoped that Matthias liked men, at the same time, the last thing he wanted to happen to his friend was for him to be arrested for perversion. But now that he knew that Matthias was like him… perhaps there _could_ be something for them in the future, after all…

His thoughts were interrupted when Matthias said, in a nervous tone, 'Does that kind of explain it? I know it's a little vague and all but… yeah…'

Lukas smiled at him, and he was happy to see Matthias' face form into a relieved one, the smile he had come to love crawling its way back onto his lips. He nodded when Matthias told him not to tell anyone about what he had just said to him—especially the part about liking both men and women. Lukas assured him that he wouldn't tell a soul, and that everything that was said was their secret; and he nearly burst out laughing at the look of alarm on Matthias' face when he told him that he was actually exactly the same.

The topic never arose again, and over the course of the next few weeks, Lukas noticed that Matthias was more open with him. It wasn't anything too drastic, but Lukas found himself feeling more involved with Matthias' life, more like a best friend than a friend. He would have lied if he had said that he didn't love that feeling.

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 ** _To be continued..._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

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 _Christmas Eve, 1915_

 **.**

'You know, I had heard about this happening last year,' Samuel muttered, looking across the snowy ground of No man's land. 'I also heard that the superiors banned it from happening again. So… how come we're doing it?'

Marcus grinned wickedly at the Welsh boy. 'Well, the superiors can't have their eyes everywhere all at once, can they, lad? Besides,' he added, waving to the soldiers coming towards them, 'it's Christmas. I think we deserve a bit of fun.'

A large group of soldiers—a mixture of the French, BEF and ANZACs—stood at the edge of No man's land. The oncoming force of German soldiers in the distance did not make them alarmed. In fact, tucked underneath Marcus' arm was an old football. As Samuel had mentioned, the men were initiating a repeat of 1914's Christmas Truce. Lukas was actually excited for it, as was Matthias, who couldn't stop bouncing on his toes next to him.

'I swear you Brits are insane,' a French soldier, Arnaud Bonnaire, muttered from Lukas' other side. He was a short man, with a long nose and thin physique. He, Lukas and Matthias had become friends during the time they had been together, and Lukas cracked a smile at his words. 'Making friends with the enemy.'

'Yet here you are, standing right next to us, Arnaud,' Lukas told him matter-of-factly, and he nearly laughed out loud when Arnaud merely rolled his eyes.

'And haven't you heard the phrase "keep your friends close but your enemies closer"?' Matthias piped up.

Arnaud merely waved a hand, snorting something along the lines of, 'Whatever… you're still crazy, _mon Dieu._ '

Smirking and looking towards the stretch of land once more, Lukas saw that the Germans had come to a halt in front of them. They weren't a very large group, consisting of maybe ten people. One of them then broke away from the ensemble, walked up to Marcus and held out his hand. Marcus shook it and flashed him a huge grin.

'I… I believe you say in English,' the German said softly, his tone deep and laced with a thick accent. 'Merry Christmas.'

'And to you too,' Marcus said to him, 'because I don't know how to say it in German at all!'

The soldiers laughed. Looking at them up close, Lukas could hardly believe that these were the men they were supposed to be fighting. They were just like them: young, afraid, determined to do _something_ for their country. Lukas' eyes landed on two soldiers in particular, ones who were standing at the edge of the group. Just by looking at them, Lukas could see how _young_ they both were: one was very tall, broad-shouldered, but had a youthful face, and the one standing next to him was also rather tall, though shorter than his companion and a little older in appearance. They exchanged a meaningful glance with each other, the shorter one winking at his friend and the other shaking his head fondly as his eyes settled on the soldiers on the opposing side. Lukas was astounded, to say the least, as to how normal they looked…

 _I wonder why the posters at home paint them as such horrible people… when they're just like us._

Marcus' voice came through loud and clear, snapping Lukas out of his thoughts. 'So! Have you got a team?'

The German who had stepped forward smiled furtively. 'Of course.' He pointed to the ball Marcus had. 'Shall we play?'

And play they did. While they couldn't have all eleven players per team, eight on each was enough to suffice for a good game. The reserves—only four soldiers, two from each side—stood on the sidelines, cheering on their teammates. There were scattered footprints embedded in the snow as they played. Even though it was freezing cold and snow had started to fall down again, the soldiers ran up and down No man's land, kicking the ball to and fro. Arnaud, who wasn't keen on playing, ran alongside the players, having taken on the role as referee. Lukas, Matthias, Marcus, Samuel, Jack, Noah and two other ANZACs made up one team, and Lukas noticed the two soldiers he had been examining as a part of the German team.

The cold stung at his skin, but Lukas hadn't felt more alive in years. The ball now in his possession, he scanned the soldiers to see who was available: Marcus was being tailed, so he was a no go; Samuel and Jack were too far away—ah! There was Matthias, open and grinning at him expectantly. So Lukas kicked the ball to him, only realising too late that the shorter German soldier he had been looking at was running straight towards Matthias from behind.

'Matt, look out!'

But it was too late. Matthias, having turned to kick the ball towards the goal, ended up crashing into the German soldier, and the pair fell backwards into the snow. Arnaud blew his whistle, causing the players to stop. Lukas ran up to the fallen soldiers, and he came up to them just as the tall German soldier came to stand near his companion. It was at that moment that Matthias and the other German soldier looked at each other in shock for a second before they burst out laughing. Both their laughs were so loud and so full of humour that Lukas wondered if they were the same laugh being released by two different people; but they were extremely contagious and soon, all the soldiers either succumbed to laughing as well or chuckled behind their hands. Lukas and the tall German soldier merely shook their heads, but they, too, fell victim, as their mouths curved at the corners.

Helping Matthias to his feet, Lukas silently checked for any injuries as Matthias slapped the shorter German on the shoulder and asked, 'You alright there?'

' _Ja_ , I'm fine,' was the reply, followed by, 'Did I hurt you?'

Matthias shook his head and grinned as he bent down to pick up his hat. Lukas studied the Germans, and since he was seeing them up closer than before, he was in for a bit of a surprise. The shorter German was _beyond_ pale: his skin and hair glowed, like the snow around them, completely white. His eyes were a strange colour too: they appeared to be red, and they shimmered like rubies. His companion was Lukas' definition of a German: blond hair peeking out from under his hat, blue-eyed and sharp-featured.

Arnaud called out to them. 'Is everyone alright?'

He got two sets of thumbs-up thrown his way and two sets of nods. The game continued for another hour, and the Germans cheered as one of their soldiers scored the winning goal. Marcus had been most displeased, and had let out a few choice swears. They shook hands and the small group of the French, the BEF and the ANZACs scattered themselves amongst the Germans as they all, strangely, started to make friends. The two Germans Matthias and Lukas had made contact with earlier came up to them, and the four made conversation. They had introduced themselves as Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, a pair of brothers from Berlin. Gilbert was the eldest—and the shortest, much to his horror—at twenty and Ludwig had turned nineteen a few months ago. Matthias and Lukas resisted the urge to glance at each other—these two Germans looked _far_ too young for their supposed ages, but who were they to comment?

About two hours later, the four had found a spot to sit where it wasn't too snowy or too cold. Hot beverages were being passed around amongst the soldiers, and the four warmed their fingers as a cup of something that smelt _delicious_ was handed to them. It was at this point that Lukas asked them both how they knew English so well, as he noticed how fluently they spoke it.

'Our uncle is a professor of English,' Ludwig told them, sipping at his drink. 'He saw it as his duty to teach his nephews, so we've been learning from a young age.'

'Well, you've certainly nailed it, that's for sure,' Matthias muttered as he dug out his packet of cigarettes. He offered the packet to the rest of them, and as they each took one, he added, 'You speak better English than I did when I first came to England!'

Gilbert sent him a curious look. 'You're not English?'

Shaking his head, Matthias told him, 'No, I moved to England from Denmark when I was about three. I spoke only Danish for the first few years of my life, and then once school started, I had to learn English then.'

Lukas nodded beside him. 'That was the same with me, only with Norwegian.'

The brothers looked at each other, stunned. Then Ludwig leant forward to better see Lukas and Matthias from his position and asked, 'If you're from those countries… then why are you fighting in the name of Britain? Why not for Denmark, or Norway?'

Having lit his cigarette, Lukas blew out a huff of smoke. 'Two reasons: first of all, we're citizens of Britain and we have lived there for our whole lives, and secondly… neither one of our Motherlands have chosen to fight in this war. They're staying well out of it. So, here we are.'

'Makes sense,' Gilbert mumbled. 'Lucky bastards.'

There was a pause, a comfortable one, Lukas noted. It was rare to get comfortable silences these days; and it was particularly odd for this silence to be a comfortable one considering that they were sitting side-by-side with the "enemy", the very people they were supposed to be shooting dead. Lukas couldn't wrap his head around it.

Thankfully, soon enough, the silence was broken when Gilbert reached into his breast pocket. His cigarette dangled on the edge of his mouth as he asked, 'You boys got girls at home?'

When they shook their heads, Gilbert let out a sound of shock, as if he couldn't believe that they didn't have girls waiting for them at home. He said so, and Lukas didn't hesitate to roll his eyes. He wasn't keen on initiating a conversation on this topic, and neither was Matthias, for he saved them both by saying that they were seen as mad by their female friends for signing up.

'That I can understand,' Gilbert said wisely, unfolding the piece of paper he had taken out of his pocket. 'War can leave a nasty mark on men, especially death… but hopefully I can prove her wrong by coming home.'

Looking over his shoulder, Lukas saw a black and white photo of a young woman. She was smiling in it, her eyes crinkled with mirth. She was beautiful: she had long hair, curled at the ends, and she was wearing what looked like a light-coloured dress, the ones that the ladies wore in the warmer months. When he glanced up, he saw that Matthias was also studying the photo, and there was a small smile on his face.

'What's her name?' he asked Gilbert.

'Elizabeta,' he whispered in reply. 'We had plans to get married but… we ran out of time, what with the war and all.'

'She's beautiful,' Lukas told him. 'You're very lucky.'

Gilbert laughed softly, so unlike the loud one he had let out on the field earlier during the game. 'Yes, I suppose I am, aren't I?'

A shrill whistle pierced the air then, and Lukas saw the captains on both sides of the land waving flags. It was time to head back to the trenches. While they wouldn't fight each other that night, or all day tomorrow, this was definitely the last time they would mingle—unless, of course, they survived until the next year, if the war was still going. But just before they parted, Lukas and Matthias got a shock when Ludwig handed them a notepad.

'In case we survive this war,' he began, his tone very quiet, shy, 'it would be nice to keep in touch after it's over. We could tell our children one day how we became friends with the enemy. If you like, would you write your addresses down?'

Swapping a stunned look with Matthias, Lukas' mind went blank. This was surreal—first football, now exchanging addresses? It made him… strangely happy.

Matthias answered for them both when he took the notepad and the pen Ludwig was holding out to him, scribbling down his address. He gave it to Lukas, who wrote the address of Björnstad House, his home. They then received the brothers' address in Berlin, shook hands and said farewell as they started heading back towards their trenches. Looking back over his shoulder, Lukas let loose a smile, despite feeling incredibly sad.

Who knew if they would all survive? He hoped so. For all their sakes… for Elizabeta's, for their families'…

Lukas grinned at Ludwig's words, the ones regarding telling their children about what had happened. That made him determined to see the war to the end, to survive. There were other reasons of course, but none that he could express out loud. So what he said to Matthias after he asked him what he was smiling about was, 'Nothing… just thinking of my mother's face when she sees me writing letters to Germans.'

They laughed heartily as they entered the trenches again, and not even the biting cold dampened their spirits that night.

 **.**

 _January, 1916_

 **.**

Burning. Burning. Burning. Everything was burning hot...

The start of 1916 had gone unnoticed by many of the soldiers. If it hadn't been for Samuel's impeccable date keeping, none of them would have known that New Year had occurred. But to be fair, the soldiers had other things to be worried about. A huge wave of sickness had enveloped the trenches of the Allied side. They weren't sure if their fellow Germans were having the same problem, but Lukas, for one, hoped that they didn't, because there was nothing worse than this.

The sickness had claimed a few lives already, but for those who were lucky enough to not have been affected spent every second of their day treating the ill. They rushed up and down through the trenches, searching for water, for cloths and warm blankets, anything to protect those who had fallen ill from the cold. The snow hadn't ceased, covering the entirety of No man's land once more and trickling into the trenches themselves. It was one of the worst winters any of them had experienced.

Freezing… freezing… Why was it so damn cold?

'Marcus, hey!' Matthias called out suddenly, seeing the Scottish soldier running past him. 'Do you have any more cloths on you? This one has frozen through!'

'Uh, yeah.' He rummaged through his coat pockets and pulled out a few shabby-looking cloths. 'Will these do?'

'Anything will do,' Matthias told him, his tone frantic. 'Just need to keep his temperature down, but a fucking frozen cloth will only make matters worse!'

'Matthias, his blanket is falling off! Shit, I would stay and help, but Samuel needs me…'

The voices faded out into gibberish. If he had the energy, Lukas would have cried. The changing of temperatures confused and frustrated him: one second he was burning hot, and the next he was absolutely freezing. He couldn't keep up with the change, nor could his body. Breathing raggedly, he kept his eyes closed, simply not being able to keep them open any longer. He felt the cool and scratchy material of a cloth being pressed to his forehead, and the temporary relief made him a little calmer.

But then the cycle began again. Hot, cold, hot, cold. Relief, no relief, relief, no relief. It had been three days since he had gotten sick, and if anything, Lukas was getting worse, not better. The hole Matthias had made in the trench wall for him to lie down in was anything but comfortable, and the dirt surroundings made his glum mood deepen.

His eyes flew open. Grabbing the sleeve of Matthias' uniform, Lukas only had time to say, 'I'm going to be sick,' as he felt the contents of his stomach begin to rise up. Matthias moved out of the way just as Lukas, unable to hold on any longer, heaved over the edge of his makeshift bed, right into the snow. To make matters worse, he started coughing uncontrollably, his lungs struggling to breathe in air.

'Lukas, Lukas, breathe!' Matthias told him, his voice stern. He pushed him onto his back once more, laying the cool cloth on Lukas' forehead as he grabbed another one to wipe the edges of Lukas' mouth. 'You'll get through this… Don't give up on me!'

Lukas was shaking, his body no longer wanting to fight. His breathing turned shallow and he could hear Matthias whispering to him frantically, 'Don't you die on me—don't you fucking dare.'

Blackness enveloped his vision.

 **.**

 _February_

 **.**

In the end, the sickness had taken over sixty lives. As the remainder of the soldiers stood by the burial ground of the dead, Lukas was glad that he was not one of them. Matthias' efforts of keeping him alive had paid off. While he was still groggy and rather weak, Lukas had survived. He was grateful to Matthias, yet had struggled to show his appreciation for everything he had done. He mostly slept these days, as his body needed more time to recover.

The soldiers bowed their heads in a moment of silence, a moment of mourning for those who had passed. Lukas and Matthias were at the back of the group, Lukas leaning on Matthias for support. Having been so close to death shook Lukas to the core, and seeing the mound of dirt and snow covering those who had died, in all honesty, terrified him.

He cleared his throat quietly and leant in closer to Matthias. 'I owe you my life,' he whispered in his ear. 'If it wasn't for you, I would be in there.'

Matthias turned to look at him. Lukas was taken back at the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his mouth was in a thin line, as if afraid to speak in case he burst into tears. He had grown paler over the past few weeks, and the contrast of his skin and his freckles was astonishing. There were huge, dark circles under his eyes, a reminder of the time and effort he had put into keeping Lukas alive.

'I would never have forgiven myself if you died,' he said after a moment. His head shifted in order to look forward, his eyes gazing straight ahead.

'But I haven't,' Lukas told him. 'Thanks to you, I'm still here.'

Matthias smiled gently, still looking ahead. 'Yes… But I admit, I would be lying if I said that it wasn't scary.'

Letting out a quiet sigh, Lukas' eyes landed on the mound once again. They would give them all proper burials once the winter was over, once the snow had melted into the ground. For now, it was all they could do for them. Shuddering, Lukas discreetly slipped his hand into Matthias'.

'You have no need to be scared anymore,' Lukas said to him, his voice far, far away.

Lukas wasn't thinking straight. If he had been, he would have hesitated over the idea of holding Matthias' hand. It was a subconscious move, and a risky one at that. But he found himself relaxing when he felt Matthias' fingers curl around his own.

'No…' Matthias murmured, swallowing.

For the first time since the winter had started, Lukas' hand was warm.

 **.**

 _Four months later: Mid-June_

 **.**

Running his finger over the swan's head once more, Lukas brought it to his lips, kissing it before tucking it into his breast pocket, just over his heart. After fixing his helmet firmly on his head, Lukas grabbed his rifle, slung it over his shoulder and glanced around for Matthias. Spotting him a few metres away, Lukas walked up to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

'Oh, hey, Luke!' Matthias greeted, smiling hugely.

'Hey.' Lukas pointed to Matthias' breast pocket. 'You got yours?'

Nodding, Matthias' eyes landed on Lukas' uniform. 'Do you have yours?'

Resting his hand over his pocket, feeling the bird's elegant neck against his palm, Lukas said to Matthias, 'Always.'

As they smiled at each other, Matthias jerked his head to the side. 'Come on—better not keep the lieutenant-corporal waiting, eh?'

The soldiers had all been woken up that morning with a distinct order: come to the reserve trench at noon. There was to be an important announcement made that day, and Lukas for one was nervous as to what it was to be. The faint sound of artillery fire from the Germans' side of No man's land could be heard as the Allied men made their way towards the reserve trenches, but they all knew that those shots wouldn't reach them. Ever since Christmas Eve, there had been only half-hearted attempts to engage in combat; neither side was particularly interested in fighting seriously.

Walking through the mud, Lukas' fingers kept absentmindedly reaching for his breast pocket. The swan he had tucked away in it had been a gift from Matthias. When his birthday had come in May, his supposed nineteenth birthday—but actually his seventeenth—Matthias had surprised him when he had pressed the wooden figurine into his hands. He had made it himself, he had told Lukas; he also told him that he could use it as a good luck charm, if he wanted to. Lukas had been so overwhelmed that he didn't know what to do other than gawk at the _detail_. What Matthias had used to create such a thing, he didn't know, but what he did know was that it must have taken a long time to do because Lukas could see each, delicate line in the feathers, the beak, the eyes…

When he had asked Matthias why a swan, his answer had been, 'Well… I've always loved swans, and they're Denmark's national animal. Consider me sentimental but… I thought, in case something happened, you would have something to remember me by. Bit selfish, I know…'

Lukas had merely scooped Matthias into a hug—shocked both himself and Matthias by doing so—and thanked him for his kind thoughts. He hadn't let go of the figure since, and once Matthias' birthday arrived earlier that month, Lukas gave him a similar gift: a nightingale. Lukas had always loved the creatures, and he told Matthias so. Matthias had been so happy at his little, misshapen gift—because Lukas' woodwork skills were pathetic compared to Matthias'—that Lukas swore he had broken several of his ribs in the hug that he had pulled him into.

Not that he'd admit it to anyone but… Lukas had wished for the hug to last longer, so he could be close to Matthias for just that little bit longer.

Since then, both had kept the wooden birds on their persons. Every morning when he woke up and every night before he went to bed, Lukas took out his swan to look at it. He gave it a kiss before putting it away, as a means of indirectly kissing Matthias—not that he would tell anyone that, god no. No, he was obviously kissing it as a means of prayer… yes, that was it. It wasn't as if Lukas was _in love_ with Matthias!

Sighing, Lukas resisted the urge to scream. That was a lie. He _was_ in love with Matthias, very much so. It might have been a result of his adolescent heart playing tricks on him, but Lukas couldn't get the man out of his head. Perhaps Lukas had known all along that he had some feelings for Matthias, from the moment he had seen him at the station in London. Over the months, those feelings grew and grew, and now they overwhelmed him. Lukas couldn't even go to sleep without Matthias somehow being in his thoughts.

'What's the matter?' Glancing at Matthias blankly, Lukas raised an eyebrow. 'Why the sigh?'

Lukas hesitated for a moment as he tried to think of what to say. He went with, 'I'm worried about what this announcement is going to be. It has to be important if they're rounding _all_ of us up, right?' and praised himself inwardly at his recovery. It wasn't as if he could tell Matthias his feelings now, could he?

'Well, looks like we're about to find out,' Matthias told him, pointing to the huge conglomeration of soldiers in front of them. 'We're here, and there's the lieutenant.'

Coming to a stop behind a trio of ANZACs, the pair fixed their gazes on the lieutenant-corporal. He was a burly fellow, tall, with a thick, black moustache. Despite his size, he was a mild-mannered man, who was often criticised by other army officials for being too lax with his battalions. He stood on top of what appeared to be some kind of chair, making his already huge stature appear bigger. He gazed at the soldiers, his dark eyes roving over them all. Lukas frowned.

 _He's hesitating…_

'Gentlemen,' the lieutenant-corporal called, his French accent loud and clear. 'The reason I have called you all here this morning is, I'm afraid, not a good one. As you are aware, there have been countless battles happening all over Europe, some far more gruesome than what you have all experienced here.'

He let out a deep breath and licked his lips. Lukas didn't like where this was going. They all had heard the stories. Ypres. Flanders. Isonzo. Gallipoli. Jutland near Denmark and the Irish rebellion back home in Great Britain earlier that year, along with Verdun. Verdun had been a shock, considering how close they were to the place. Sometimes Lukas swore he heard cannons and guns being shot in the night, in the far, far distance, towards Verdun. The Great War was worsening, if such a thing was possible. Lukas had heard all about the deaths, the new weapons being released by both sides. It was becoming a wasteland.

Lukas was afraid of it all.

The lieutenant-corporal continued. 'The Germans are moving. Not here, but elsewhere. Given the events of the past two years, those places where action is constant are in need of more men to fight. Considering the evident truce between you lot and the Germans on the other side,' he whispered then, though not accusingly, much to Lukas' surprise, 'we have been given orders to restation you.'

There was movement amongst the soldiers, murmuring and mumbling between them growing as loud as a swarm of bees. Lukas and Matthias exchanged a curious look, and they listened as the trio of ANZACs muttered, 'Not again!'

'Men!' Silence fell upon them immediately. 'I don't like this as much as you do, but we have no choice in the matter. Now… I need you to listen carefully.' He took out a square piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. 'Lieutenant Berkley's ANZACs and half of my French battalion will be leaving for their new station in a few days' time. Major Thomson's BEF and the other half of my French battalion will leave in a week's time. There is not to be a single soldier left behind.'

'Sir?' The lieutenant-corporal glanced down at one of the men in front of him. 'Where are we going? Where are we stationed?'

The tall man sighed. 'North, gentlemen… we are heading to north, towards Amiens. There, we will meet the other French and BEF soldiers at the Somme. We believe the Germans will be striking there. However, the ANZACs will be moving further, joining some of their own men in other parts of France. Lieutenant Berkley will fill them in later.'

Lukas felt his blood turn to ice. He didn't know why, but everything about this made sickening feelings erupt inside of him. The lieutenant-corporal then dismissed them back to their duties, and as the soldiers trickled out of the reserve trench, Lukas believed that they were all heading towards Death's own personal door. As he scanned the soldiers around him, the only thought that tugged at Lukas was, _why do I have the feeling that this is the end?_

His sentiments must have been showing on his face for Matthias tapped him on the shoulder. Looking up at him, Lukas listened as Matthias said to him, smiling, 'I know you're scared, but we'll be fine, Lukas! As long as we stick together and dodge any stray bullets, we'll be okay!'

Matthias' optimism was to be applauded. Lukas simply shook his head, let loose a small grin, and replied with, 'Only you would say that, Matthias.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Matthias cried, pouting heavily.

Lukas chuckled as they walked back to their trench, but dim thoughts cast over his mind. Lukas was afraid, Matthias was right about that… but he wasn't afraid of being shot. No… Glancing at his best friend, Lukas knew that he was scared about losing Matthias. He could no longer control his heart, and the mere idea of Matthias being shot dead made it splinter. He couldn't bear the thought of Matthias being killed in combat. Lukas wanted to tell him everything, to confess, to hold him and love him, to _protect him_.

But how could he tell him? He could ruin their friendship or worse… if Matthias did die, it would make his death all the more heartbreaking. Lukas didn't think he would be able to cope. But as he walked with Matthias by his side, he realised that either way, Matthias' death would tear him apart.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

The week went by quicker than Lukas anticipated. The battalion was to be deported to the Somme the following morning, and the ANZACs and half of the French battalion had long been gone. Only the other half of the French and the entire BEF battalion remained. That terrified Lukas to the core. They were next.

Their little group had said goodbye to Noah and Jack the previous week. Both ANZACs were reluctant to leave, wanting to stay with their British and French pals. Arnaud had been most upset, giving both boys a tight hug and a stern order for them to write to them, no matter what happened. They exchanged details and wished the two boys the best of luck. They would meet again, they had told them. Keep safe and dodge any bullets, was the last thing they heard before their truck pulled out of the trenches and made its way towards Amiens.

Seven became five, and Marcus had been very sour about the whole ordeal. Not even Samuel's words—which had worked wonders in the past—could lift his mood. He had spent the next few days sulking and brooding, his good-natured face in a perpetual scowl. They had all grown close to the ANZAC boys, but perhaps no one did as much as Marcus had. He had grown fond of the two boys, and to see them suddenly disappear was too much for him. Lukas couldn't blame the man. None of this seemed good.

Lukas was pulled out of his thoughts when Matthias let out a huge yawn beside him. It was late, most likely past midnight, and the both of them were on night duty. Lukas was feeling tired himself, his eyes drooping every so often—but he was determined to stay awake. He had thought long and hard about what he was going to do once he and Matthias were alone, and the very thing made butterflies erupt in his stomach.

He was going to confess.

He had to. He was going to go insane if he didn't.

'Alright, lads, off you go.' Matthias and Lukas looked up to see two other soldiers—their lance corporals, of all people—walking up to them. 'We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Go and get some rest.'

'Our dugout is free, so you can sleep in there,' the other said to them. 'Just don't move anything around, okay?'

Lukas and Matthias saluted their officers, followed by a soft, 'Yes, sir!' as to not awake any of the soldiers who were sleeping nearby. Once they received directions to the dugout, the two set off, ecstatic over the fact that they would be sleeping in a bed for the first time since they left London.

'Man, I could use a good night's sleep!' Matthias told Lukas. 'Kind of the lance corporals to let us use their dugout, hey?'

Lukas nodded, not daring to say a word in case he accidentally blurted out what he wanted to say too soon. Matthias took his silence as him being tired and told him that soon, they would be able to sleep, just a little longer. He couldn't believe their luck: an entire dugout to themselves, with all the privacy in the world. The closer they got to the dugout, the more Lukas' heart was jumping into his mouth. He had given himself an inward pep talk when he had gotten up that morning that today was the day, yes…

There was no moon that night, as it was covered by the clouds—thus, Lukas and Matthias had to keep close to each other so they wouldn't get lost in the darkness. While there was some flaming torches nearby, they had to keep them low as to not alert any enemies that could have been nearby, some that _weren't_ their friends from Christmas Eve. The close proximity made goose bumps rise on Lukas' skin, shivers going up and down his spine. God, he wanted to kiss him…

'Luke, I think it's here.'

Lukas froze. Matthias was right: there was the entrance, a dark hole with a few stairs leading down below. Lukas swallowed and followed suit as Matthias went through first. The further down they went, the closer they got, and the closer they got, the more Lukas' heart hammered against his ribs. He was nervous beyond anything he had felt before in his life, but his mind was set. So when they reached the door, opening it and entering the small place, Lukas shut it behind them and said, as bluntly as one could be, 'I need to talk to you.'

Matthias turned around to face him, his eyes round in curiosity. Those eyes went even rounder when Lukas stepped forward, eliminating the gap between them as he tilted his head upwards and kissed him softly. His lips were smoother than what Lukas had imagined, but he didn't get to dwell on the thought for long as Matthias pulled away, as if Lukas was made of fire. He took a few steps backwards and stared at Lukas in shock. The reaction wasn't quite what Lukas was expecting, and he was a little hurt at Matthias moving away.

But he gazed at Matthias deeply and whispered, 'I don't know how else to say this but… I've fallen in love with you, Matthias. Hard.'

Silence was all that was heard. Lukas' heart thundered in his ears and his face had grown so warm that he might as well have been standing out in the sun. Matthias then let out something that was close to an incredulous scoff, shaking his heading repeatedly.

'No…' he muttered. 'No, no, no… This has got to be some kind of joke, right?'

'Of course not.'

Lukas frowned when Matthias' face fell, and he was alarmed to see unadulterated _fear_ spread across his features, even more so once he started stuttering. He had never seen the man so scared before… it scared him in turn.

'L-Lukas, I—we can't—it wouldn't w-work, you know,' he said to him as he wrung his hands. 'I mean, we're w-what we are—'

'I don't care about that!' Lukas told him, his tone firm. He walked up to Matthias again, his palms moving to cup his cheeks. 'I love you.'

Lukas kissed him again, slowly and gently, as to not scare Matthias off. He could feel Matthias shaking like a leaf, as his lips trembled against his own. Lukas was delighted, however, once Matthias began to kiss him back. While it was hesitant, it was unlike anything Lukas had ever dreamed of—it was so much better. Unfortunately, the kiss lasted only a second longer before Matthias pulled away once more. Lukas was astounded to see him on the verge of tears.

'We can't… _Shit_ , Lukas you have no idea…' Matthias murmured, his voice low. 'You have no idea… who I am… _what_ I am. If you knew, y-you'd never to t-talk to me again—'

But Lukas, once more, said strictly, 'I don't care.' He chose to languidly run his lips over Matthias' cheeks and nose, to brush them over his lips once again. His fingers traced the muscles of his arms, his hands stroking them lightly. 'It can't be that bad, can it?' he asked, his eyes landing on Matthias'.

Matthias didn't say anything, but judging by his forlorn expression, it obviously was. Grabbing Lukas' hands from his arms, Matthias moved away—properly this time—and muttered a dejected, 'Goodnight, Lukas.' He turned his back on him, going towards one of the empty beds.

Lukas was numb. Although his mouth was on fire, he was numb. _What did you expect, Lukas? That he would be jumping for joy? That he would love you back? You're an idiot. Fuck… I'm an idiot…_ He watched as Matthias took off his boots, followed by his harness and hat, before he simply lay on his side, his back still facing Lukas. Swallowing down the bubbling sadness coming up his throat, Lukas went towards the other bed in the room, copied Matthias by taking off his boots, harness and hat, but didn't lie down straight away. Instead, he took out his swan from his breast pocket and ran his finger over its head.

He didn't know what to think. Was Matthias really that afraid of being with another man? Or worse… did he really not like Lukas the way he liked him?

 _You really are an idiot_. Taking in a deep breath, Lukas hurriedly wiped away the lone tear that streamed down his cheek and placed the swan on the little bedside table. He didn't kiss it that night, for nothing could better the kiss he had just given Matthias.

 **.**

The truck of BEF soldiers was silent. No one looked at each other, no one said a single word; they just kept their heads bowed and their gazes on their boots. It gave Lukas a perfect excuse not to glance at Matthias, especially given the fact that he was sitting right opposite him.

When they had woken up earlier that morning, neither Matthias nor Lukas had spoken to each other. They had gotten dressed and left the dugout without a word. Having followed the rest of the BEF up to the trucks, Matthias and Lukas were in some kind of contemplative silence, as was the comment Marcus had thrown at them. To Lukas, however, it was a strained one.

This one in the truck was a strained one. But there was nothing Lukas could do other than take out _Heart of Darkness_ and bury his nose in it. There were no jibes thrown at him for doing so—in fact, everyone seemed to be lost in their own little worlds. Lukas wondered what he would be doing if he didn't have _Heart of Darkness_. Would he have been like Marcus, who fiddled with this fingernails? Would he have been like Samuel, who either stared at his shoes or the ceiling of the truck? Or would he have been like Matthias, who gazed miserably at the door of the truck, whose face was so blank it was impossibly unreadable, who had an empty page of his sketchbook open on his thigh?

Lukas went back to Marlow. But not even Marlow could help him get rid of the memory of kissing Matthias in the dugout. He couldn't get rid of the phantom feeling of Matthias' mouth on his, or stitch up the tear in his heart. But the more he thought about it, the more Lukas realised that Matthias was _scared_ , and not about the fact that Lukas was also a man.

 _'_ _You have no idea… who I am…_ what _I am. If you knew, y-you'd never to t-talk to me again—'_

 _What he is…_ Lukas frowned deeply. _Who he is… What the hell do you mean by that, Matthias? And what do you mean I'd never want to talk to you again? That's crap…_

He turned a page.

It had been two hours since the BEF and the other half of the French battalion left the trenches. In those two hours, no one so much as sneezed, let alone talked. But clearly someone wanted there to be some noise as they cleared their throat and spoke.

'Something starting with 'D'.' All eyes landed on Samuel, and they saw him still looking at the ceiling. It was a game they had played whenever there wasn't anything better to do. It had started on the truck ride back in 1915, when they had met for the first time, and it followed them through the tough times in the trenches as well.

'You mean "doom", Sam?' Marcus grumbled. 'You mean the fact that we're heading towards another unknown place, possibly to get slaughtered?'

Samuel scowled at him. 'For god's sake! I know it sucks, but that doesn't mean we have to sit in silence! Not even those two are talking! They never shut up!' he cried, and then pointed to Matthias and Lukas. Their cheeks went pink.

'It… seems wrong to…' Matthias muttered, making brief eye contact with Lukas before looking away. 'Marcus is right… in a way. Something about this doesn't feel right.'

'Why did I even bother?' Samuel said under his breath as he crossed his arms and curled against the wall of his corner.

Feeling sorry for the guy, Lukas scanned his eyes over the surroundings. When he saw it, Lukas asked him, 'Is it Donald?'

Glancing up, Samuel frowned. 'What?'

'Something starting with 'D'—is it Donald?' Lukas asked him again, gesturing towards one of the soldiers sitting nearby.

Samuel cracked a small smile. 'Someone's sharp.'

Lukas smiled back, even though it was a small one. Then he swallowed and said, 'Samuel's right. There's no use in sitting in silence and sulking about the whole thing. We might as well have a bit of fun before we get there, right? Better to talk than to… well, keep it all bottled in, don't you agree?'

His eyes had landed on Matthias then, only for a second, but he saw something cross Matthias' face at his words. It disappeared as soon as it came, leaving Lukas pondering even further about what on earth was going through Matthias' head.

'Or maybe people just want to think,' Matthias told him, his voice quiet. 'Or just not in the mood to talk.'

Lukas chose to ignore the sliver of ice that had just pierced his heart and, instead, glared at Matthias. 'Whatever, Matthias. Do what you want.'

Glancing down at his book, Lukas tried to drown out the sounds of interest coming from the other soldiers. Lukas didn't say anything. Neither did Matthias, but he didn't need to, for his silence said it all. Lukas had the feeling that if he had looked up, there would have been a wretched expression on Matthias' face.

 _Serves him right,_ he thought. _Payback for what he did to me last night. What kind of friends don't tell each other things?_

As the truck ambled onwards to Amiens, one thought plagued his mind: what was Matthias _so_ afraid of that he couldn't tell him?

 **.**

 _June 30_ _th_ _, Amiens_

 **.**

It was well into the night by the time the trucks pulled into Amiens. The journey had been long, and only a handful of conversations after the first one that had been initiated occurred. It appeared that Matthias was right: no one had been in the mood to talk. But as soon as their boots hit the soil, Marcus let out a loud yawn and a boisterous, 'Well, thank god _that's_ over!'

They then received orders from Major Thomson to not stay out too late and to not get into any trouble. Dispersing, the BEF and the French made their around the village of Amiens. Arnaud had joined the small group of Marcus, Samuel, Lukas and Matthias, who had greeted with them a yawn and a sleepy, ' _Bonjour, mes amis_.'

Despite them walking side-by-side, Lukas and Matthias still didn't talk to one another. Instead, they listened to Marcus argue with Arnaud.

'Please!' Marcus pleaded. 'My French sucks and I really want to know if the ANZACs are still here! Our last chance to see Jack and Noah, eh? I'll be laughed at if I go up to a Frenchie and try to speak the language!'

Arnaud rolled his eyes. 'I'm telling you, Marcus, the ANZACs are long gone.'

But Marcus was adamant. If he wasn't so down, Lukas might have laughed at his persistence. In the end, the group had found a little inn, and Marcus, sick of arguing with Arnaud, walked up the nearest pair of French women, who loitered near the entrance of the place with thin cigarettes in their fingers.

' _Bonjour_. Uh… _parlez vous_ English?' Marcus asked, and Lukas heard Arnaud slap his palm on his forehead.

'You are an embarrassment, Marcus!' Arnaud hissed, and Lukas, Matthias and Samuel fought smirks from coming onto their faces.

The French women found the whole thing hilarious, for they giggled behind their hands. Arnaud came to the rescue, no doubt asking about the ANZACs. Soon, the group had entered the inn, the French women coming in with them. Sadly, as Arnaud had predicted, the ANZACs had left Amiens already—where they were heading, the women didn't know. Marcus was visibly upset, but his mood lifted once a few pints were handed around.

Two hours passed. Matthias and Lukas had found separate tables after a while, wanting to be away from the boisterousness that was Marcus. They had both downed a pint, and Lukas was feeling a little out of it. Never having drunk alcohol in his life, he was still getting used to the feeling, not to mention the taste. It wasn't horrible, and it helped him forget his situation with Matthias for a little bit.

He had taken out _Heart of Darkness_ again, reading the words once more. Matthias was on another table, sketching something in his sketchbook. Every so often, he would rip out the page he was drawing on and scrunch it into a ball, chucking it somewhere nearby. Clearly he was finding it hard to concentrate, as was Lukas. He had read the same sentence about six times in the past ten minutes.

'Hey.'

Looking up from his book, Lukas came face-to-face with Samuel. Smiling at Lukas, he sat down next to him, his half-finished pint in his hands.

'Hey…'

'Thought I'd better escape before I got caught up in that,' Samuel told him, pointing to the corner of the inn.

Lukas smirked when he saw what he was referring to. Marcus and one of the French women they had met were in a battle of lips and tongue. She was in his lap, her hands going through his hair; his were on her waist, trailing them up and down her back. Seeing them made something twist in his stomach. He was jealous, he realised, as to how close they were, how tender the whole thing was. Lukas found himself wishing that he and Matthias were like that.

'Good for him,' was what he said. What he thought was, _of course they get to be happy. They're a man and a woman, after all…_

Taking a sip from his drink, Samuel swallowed, then asked, 'Everything okay?'

Nodding, Lukas shut his book, sensing a proper conversation arising. 'Why do you ask?'

There was a pause as Samuel's eyes roved over Lukas' features. Lukas felt exposed, as if the man was studying him inside and out. He didn't like it. The last thing he wanted was to be caught out with his feelings for Matthias. That wouldn't end well, for sure…

'You and Matthias aren't yourselves,' Samuel told him, glancing at Matthias briefly. 'You aren't sitting together, you haven't spoken all day, except for that moment in the truck. You're… I don't know. I supposed strained is the right word. Did something happen?'

Lukas panicked. Eyes landing on Matthias—who had ripped out yet another page—Lukas' heart leapt into his throat. _Why does God have to torture me like this?_

'Nothing happened,' Lukas said to him. 'We just need some space, that's all. We're fine.'

Samuel raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything more. Lukas was thankful that he didn't.

 **.**

It was nearing midnight when the inn started to get empty. Marcus and his female friend had disappeared about half an hour ago, no doubt to spend some more time with each other in one of the rooms upstairs. Samuel and Arnaud had retired for the night, having had one too many pints. Matthias was still at his table, still ripping out pages and struggling to draw. Lukas was still at his table, stuck on the same chapter that he had been on for the past hour. There were far too many thoughts going on in his head.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when another body sat at his table. His eyes settled on a woman: she was young, with dark hair and eyes. She smiled at Lukas, greeting him with a soft, 'Good evening.'

After greeting her back, she introduced herself as Marie. It only took that introduction in order for them to start talking. Lukas was surprised at himself for doing so, but as the minutes went by, he found himself speaking more and more with this strange woman. Her voice was thick with a French accent, thicker than Arnaud's—if such a thing was possible since his accent was already so strong—but it was pleasant to listen to. Their topics ranged from where they were from—where Lukas had to explain that yes, his name wasn't English and that yes, he was fighting for the British despite being Norwegian—to their families, to Lukas explaining to her what his book was about after she had pointed to it quizzically. After their last topic ended, they spent a moment in silence, simply staring at each other.

'So… Lukas…' she began, breaking the silence and her mouth rising at the corners. 'What is a poor man like you doing in a place like Amiens? Clearly you are here to fight but… why are you alone?'

Lukas blinked at her. 'I'm not alone. My friends have just gone to bed for the night.' _Or if you're Marcus, then sleep is not on the agenda._

'Is that so?' Marie pointed behind Lukas. 'And him?'

Lukas knew she was pointing to Matthias. 'He is also my friend. But he wants to be left alone tonight, so we've given him that liberty.'

Nodding in understanding, Marie traced her fingers over Lukas'. She gazed at Lukas. 'You're very handsome.'

Taken back at the sudden compliment, and not sure what else to say, Lukas told her, 'And you're very pretty.' It wasn't a lie, since Marie was rather pretty.

Marie tilted her head to the side, her brows contracting in concern. 'You look tired, Lukas. I better show you a room, no? You need rest.'

Frowning, Lukas gazed at her curiously. Now that he thought about it, he _was_ rather tired. So he nodded and stood up as she took his hand. They walked towards the stairs leading up to the rooms, and Lukas took the minute to take in the woman in front of him. She was a lot smaller than he had first thought, and much curvier. As they reached the landing, Lukas' eyes landed on their hands, and he mused as to how soft they were.

If Lukas had looked back downstairs, he would have seen Matthias staring at him shock.

Taking their first left, Marie opened the door to the room and stepped aside to let Lukas in. Once he did, Lukas realised too little too late what exactly was going on. His beer-coated brain had been too silly to notice what Marie was really planning, and his musings were confirmed when she shut the door behind her, only to step forward and kiss Lukas deeply.

Lukas didn't know what to do, but much to his alarm, he found himself kissing her back. Her arms went around his neck, pulling them closer together. Lukas' hands rested on her waist—much like Marcus had done with his woman—and soon, Marie had pressed him up against the wall, her teeth dragging on his bottom lip. It was desperate, fast and hungry—Lukas was overwhelmed by the feeling of Marie's lips on his, how quickly she had dominated him and how her kisses seemed to getting lower and lower…

When Marie's hands started to fiddle with his uniform, Lukas' mind snapped back to reality. Guilt washed over him as the events of him and Matthias in the dugout plagued his vision, and his heart tightened in horror.

 _What the hell am I doing?_

It hadn't been very long since that night in the dugout, and yet there he was, kissing another person? A woman, no less? Was his love for Matthias simply a simple tryst? Nothing to be thought over?

 _Of course not!_ _I love him… don't I? So why the hell am I here? Why am I letting this happen? Am I doing this to_ spite _him? What the fuck is wrong with me?_

'Marie… Marie, wait—'

'Shh…' She pressed a finger against his lips as her own descended down his neck. 'Don't talk, _mon amour_.'

 _I need to stop this! Matthias… Matthias, god, I am so sorry. I've betrayed you. Even though you don't feel the same way as I do, I've betrayed you. Forgive me, my love._

Desperate, Lukas pushed Marie away, gripping her shoulders. She looked at him in confusion and Lukas swallowed heavily. 'I can't do this.'

'Why not?' Marie asked him, and he was astounded as to how casually she said it.

'I… I just can't.' He started to move away from the wall. 'I… You're a beautiful woman, Marie. Don't waste yourself on me.'

'Waste?' Marie grabbed the lapels of his uniform. 'What are you talking about, Lukas? You're not a waste.'

'Marie, please.' Lukas moved away properly this time, his hand flying to the doorknob. 'You deserve someone whose heart is focused on you. Not on… someone else. I can't do this… not to you or to them. I sincerely apologise if I gave you the wrong idea.'

Before Marie could say another word, Lukas had escaped the room, scaling down the stairs towards the tables. Reaching his former table, Lukas grabbed his abandoned book and rushed out of the inn, guilt and horror bubbling in his gut.

As he left, he completely missed the puzzled, 'Lukas?' that came out of Matthias' mouth, who hadn't moved an inch from his spot, his feet littered with crumpled balls of paper.

 **.**

 _July 1_ _st_ , _the Somme River_

 **.**

When their major had informed them that they were needed urgently at the Somme that afternoon, none of them had expected this. When they had spent their afternoon riding away in the back of yet another truck towards the frontline, listening to Marcus bang on about his French girlfriend, none of them had expected this. When they had arrived around half-past six in the evening, greeted by canons and shooting, with cries for help and blood coating the ground beneath them, none of them had expected this.

'This is hell…' Samuel whimpered, his eyes wide.

Hell didn't do the place justice. But none of them had time to ponder on the matter when they were told to enter the trenches and fight. Not wanting to risk the consequences of desertion or cowardice, the thirty-third battalion entered the trenches of the Somme.

Comparing his experience in their former station, Lukas thought the Somme was a whole new dimension. What had been calm, boring days had turned into every second could be their last—the whole thing was incredibly mind-blowing. Lukas, for the first time since he had signed up, was very, very scared about just what he had gotten himself into.

Their group quickly separated, much to Lukas' horror, but he had somehow, magically, ended up with Matthias. Glancing at him, Lukas saw horror pass over his features, causing his skin to become so pale Lukas thought he was going to pass out in front of him.

'Hey!' he called, elbowing him in the side. 'Get yourself together! We gotta dodge stray bullets, remember?'

Matthias stared at him for a split second before nodding hurriedly. The pair ran through the trenches, avoiding as many bullets as they possibly could. They fired blindly over the top of the front trench a few times, completely at a loss as to what else to do. There was a moment where one of the walls collapsed after a bomb landed on top of it, nearly burying Matthias alive as the earth tumbled down.

Neither of them knew how long they were there for. It could have been an hour, or two, perhaps even twenty minutes, but to them, it felt like an eternity. Their ears rung from the constant firing of the guns and cannons from both sides, rung from the barking orders of the officers, who ran to and fro, from trench to trench, and they rung from the screams of the men being shot and killed—at that exact moment, two soldiers, who had clambered over the top, were shot right in front of the pair. Looking at the holes in their heads and chests, watching the blood stain their uniforms and trail down the sides of their faces, Lukas thought he was going to be physically sick. Their noses picked up all sorts of smells: rotting flesh, gunpowder, the iron taste and scent of blood and weaponry.

Lukas' heart was in his mouth. He suddenly wished he was back at their old station, playing football with the Germans there, with the Beilschmidt brothers. He wished he was back at the station in London, gazing at Matthias for the first time. Hell, he wished that he was back in that dugout, kissing Matthias and getting rejected for it. Anything was better than this.

As another three soldiers were shot dead in front of them, Lukas gripped his rifle with both hands. He couldn't stop shaking…

'Oh god…' Lukas turned to Matthias, and he saw him shaking his head. His eyes were glazed with what Lukas was astounded to identify as tears. His voice cracked as he said, 'We've walked straight into the seventh circle of hell.'

The words sinking in, Lukas couldn't agree with him more. He told him so, and Matthias locked eyes with him. They simply stared at each other, properly for the first time since the kiss. Taking in his friend, his love, Lukas had the overpowering urge to run, to take Matthias' hand and _run_. He knew he was thinking like a coward, and that if they did commit such an act that they could both be shot for desertion. But the last thing Lukas wanted was for Matthias or him to die.

Not like this. There were better ways to die.

He wanted to apologise. He wanted to kiss him again and then apologise. Anything to keep this madness from taking over his brain. Matthias was what kept him grounded, was the one who made him see sense these days. He couldn't bear to part from him. Everything that had happened seemed trivial compared to this. They were both idiots, that much was certain.

But time was testing them. Neither one of them noticed as a wayward soldier—a German no less—ambled into their trench. He saw the two and dug around in his uniform for a weapon. Lukas had no idea what was happening, for the soldier had snuck up behind him—but he knew something was wrong when Matthias' eyes flicked upwards and then bulged out of his head in terror. The next thing Lukas knew was that he had been shoved to the side and a loud cry of, 'NO!' reached his ears.

There was a _bang,_ one that was strangely louder than the rest, and the unmistakable fall of a body hitting the ground nearby. Once Lukas had cleared his head and turned around, his eyes landed on the muddy terrain a few metres away from him. Realising exactly what he was seeing, Lukas didn't hesitate to let out a _scream_.

 _No! NO!_

His worst nightmare was coming true right before him. There, shivering in the mud in front of him, was Matthias. He was gasping and groaning in such _agony_ that Lukas wanted to cry for him. A large stain of red had already covered his right breast pocket, no doubt where he had been shot. The German—who had shot Matthias, Lukas then apprehended—stood a little way away from them, but Lukas didn't give a single shit about him.

He dove down to Matthias' level, his knees becoming wet with mud and, most likely, blood. Without hesitation, Lukas pressed his trembling hands over the gunshot wound; blood covered his skin, tainting it scarlet, but he didn't really care about that at that moment, not while his Matthias—darling, wonderful, _beautiful_ Matthias—was dying right in front of him. Lukas couldn't help the tears that spilled over, streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed silently.

' _Nei… nei, nei,_ nei,' was what he repeated under his breath, even more when Matthias' breathing changed pace. Whimpers passed his paling lips and his chest rose and fell quickly as short, shallow puffs of air came out of him. His eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched as he let out a low, distressed groan, and the very sound made Lukas petrified.

 _Oh god. Please don't die. Please, Matthias, don't die! Don't you dare!_

Scanning his surroundings, Lukas noticed that the chaos was starting to die down. It was god awful, still the epitome of hell itself, but perhaps they had a chance. So he yelled, louder than he had yelled before, 'MEDIC! PLEASE, GOD, GET THE MEDIC!'

Lukas nearly jumped out of his skin when Matthias gripped his arm tightly, desperately. His eyes were round, embedded with pain. 'No,' he protested, squeezing Lukas' arm further. 'No, medic. Please, no.'

Gaping at him in alarm, Lukas' voice didn't waver when he growled at Matthias in Norwegian, effectively snapping him out his objection, 'Do you want to die? Do you? You idiot, fucking idiot, how dare you— _shit!_ '

The German had gone unnoticed, yet surprisingly, he did nothing as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. He had a look of shock on his face from when Lukas had switched to his mother tongue—it sounded a little like his own, but different. When Matthias, after a moment, opened his mouth to speak and Danish filled the air, the pistol slipped from the German's fingers and he backed up into the trench wall.

'No… I don't want to die,' he told Lukas, 'but I also don't want to go home. If I get better, I'll be sent home, because they'll find out for sure. Please, Lukas, _please…_ I can't go back.' He gazed at Lukas deeply, his eyes wild. 'No one… can know my secret… I'll be shamed for the rest of my life. God, Lukas, please, just let me die. I'll only find peace in death, as much as I don't want it to happen…'

Lukas' bottom lip quivered. Was he really hearing this? Had Matthias gone insane?

'What is so bad, Matthias, that you're willing to _die?_ ' Lukas wiped his eyes with his shoulders—or tried to—before he whispered out, 'What is it that scares you so much that you won't tell me?'

'Because you'd hate me if you knew.' Matthias' other hand landed on Lukas' cheek, and sparks of heat erupted where his fingers touched the skin. 'You'd hate me. You'd curse my grave.' He breathed in deeply, trying to steady his voice. 'I… I don't want you to hate me. Please, don't hate me… I love you so much. I'd die a worse death knowing you hated me than dying one where I know you love me.'

Lukas' mind went blank. Despite the ongoing barrage of noise around him, silence was all Lukas heard. The only thought that barged into his head was _he loves me._ He paused. _He_ loves _me._ The pieces came together. Matthias had rejected him in order to make sure Lukas loved him as he knew him. He wanted to keep his secret safe in case something happened to him, so that Lukas would continue loving him.

He frowned at that, then whispered, shaking his head, 'Matthias… you idiot.' Bending down, Lukas rested their foreheads together, all the while pressing against the wound. 'I don't care what or who you are. I love you, no matter what. So please… please don't die on me, _please_.'

The chaos around them started to calm down. Lukas looked up in time to see the medics coming towards them in the distance. He called them over, desperate to get Matthias treated as soon as possible. They came over, and a few of the soldiers who were trailing behind them rushed towards the lone German. Lukas pleaded with them to let him go with them, but he was harshly told to stay put, as they had a lot of injured soldiers to collect and take to the hospital.

'That is, if we can make it there with any of them alive,' one of them had said as they lifted Matthias onto a stretcher.

Lukas watched with a shattering heart as the medics whisked Matthias away to the frontline hospital. He wanted to disobey and go with them, but he also wanted to run away, to escape the building fear in his chest. Glancing down at his hands, he gasped at the blood that coated them— _Matthias' blood._ They shook as Lukas fought down bubbling sobs. He turned to run away from the scene and his eyes caught the German's, who was being held with his arms behind his back. He heard him mutter a broken, 'I'm sorry.'

The fact that he had clearly understood most of their conversation went over Lukas' head. Anger frothed within him, so much that he ended up spitting out, 'You should be. If he dies, I'll kill you.'

He stormed off.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_

* * *

 **A/N: OHOHOHO ENJOY THAT CLIFFHANGER**

 **From here, I'll be posting every week, either on Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning. Make sure to keep your eyes peeled! Thank you to everyone who has left a review so far, omg I am so touched... I really hope that the rest of the story continues to pique your interests... especially now with Matthias having been shot OHOHOHOHOHO.**

 **Stay tuned! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

Three days.

It had been three days since that fateful day. Three, unbelievably long days. Silent days. No one in the trenches dared raise the topic of those who had died that day, or the thousands who had been taken to the hospital, whether from gunshot wounds or more severe injuries. But even then, No man's land was still littered with bodies, a mix of the Allies and the Germans.

Lukas sat with Marcus, Samuel and Arnaud. The latter three were talking—what about, Lukas had no idea. While he appeared static on the outside, he was occupied with the hundreds of questions bouncing around in his head. Lukas hadn't received any news of Matthias since he had been shot, and that worried him. Was he, god forbid, dead? If he had died, where? On the way? On the surgeon's table? Did he survive? Was he in hospital, alive? Did he want Lukas to see him? Or was he so ashamed that he couldn't face Lukas?

'Fuck!' he yelled, grabbing at his hair. _If I don't find out what's happened to him soon, I'm going to go mad!_

'Jesus, Lukas.' Glancing over to his friends, he saw them looking at him in surprise at his outburst.

He felt very sheepish. 'Sorry… Not knowing is driving me insane…'

Samuel sent him a pitiful look. 'You should go and visit him, find out what's going on. Last I heard, Colonel Adams is in his dugout. You can ask him for permission.'

Lukas was already on his feet by the time Samuel had finished his sentence, and he asked him in which direction the colonel's dugout was. After pointing out where it was, Lukas rushed towards it, thanking Samuel. He had to know. He had to. Matthias had to be okay… right?

Once he had reached the dugout and after he had hastily pleaded for permission to go to the frontline hospital—which had been granted—Lukas bolted towards the path leading to it. _Please be okay, Matthias,_ he kept thinking as he ran down the muddy path, _please be alive. You have to be alive. You'll break my heart if you're dead. Please. I need you._

When he made to the entrance of the frontline hospital, Lukas was trembling. His chest rose and fell with heavy puffs as he tried to catch his breath from all the running he had just done. He was scared, very much so. But he swallowed the looming thoughts of Matthias being dead—because he _had_ to be alive… he had to be—and went through to the main corridor. Catching sight of a passing nurse, Lukas stopped her and asked her if she knew where Matthias was.

The look on her face at Matthias' name made Lukas' entire world freeze. Glancing around frantically, the nurse told Lukas to wait where he was until she got the doctor before walking hurriedly away. That alone sent shivers running up and down Lukas' spine. His heart was in his mouth in utter _fear_ , for at that moment, he was so unbelievably scared that Matthias was truly dead. He could feel his heart splintering at the reality that was unfolding in front of him.

As he waited, Lukas paced the floor, too edgy and afraid to stand still. His eyes scanned the floor, the walls, the ceiling—anything to get his mind off the situation, to blindly tell himself that everything was going to be okay… It was about five minutes later—and the hundredth-and-third walk down the corridor—that he saw a man approach him. Judging from his pristine attire, huge glasses and sombre façade, he was none other than a doctor.

Lukas swallowed.

They introduced themselves before Lukas asked, 'My friend, Matthias… is he alive? May I see him, please?'

The doctor hesitated visibly and Lukas' hairs stood on end. 'Perhaps we should go to my office. We can talk there.'

Holding out an arm, Lukas followed the doctor towards his office. As he did so, he tried his hardest to stop the unshed tears from falling because _oh god… He's dead, isn't he? He's died, oh my god. Matthias… no…_

When they reached the doctor's small office—a small, square room filled with a desk stacked high with folders and papers, some chairs and a huge bookshelf in the corner—Lukas sat down shakily in one of the chairs. He watched as the doctor didn't sit down in his chair on the other side of the table—rather, he stood opposite Lukas, putting his hands in his pockets and letting loose a sigh. Lukas had never felt so on edge in his life.

'Listen, Lukas—can I call you Lukas?' the doctor began, his tone low. 'I don't know how else to tell you this but… your friend, Matthias… he's presented us with a few problems.'

'Problems? What kind of problems?'

'Well, you see, he was brought in injured, and we put him on the table, ready to operate and remove the bullet only… well, that's the thing. It was a shock as to what we found.'

The doctor chose to move in order to lean against the edge of his desk, and Lukas gazed up at him fearfully; he was afraid as to what was going to come out of his mouth next and his nerves were so riled up Lukas thought he was going to be sick.

'I'm sorry, Lukas…'

 _No. No, please, no, don't say that._

'But Matthias Køhler _doesn't exist._ '

As soon as the words left his lips, Lukas' heart broke clean into two. _What a way to tell someone that their friend has died, Jesus Christ,_ he thought as he hung his head. He would have said something about the doctor's lack of tact to his face, but Lukas was far too broken to care.

Matthias was dead.

His best friend was dead.

The love of his life was dead.

But it appeared that the doctor wasn't quite finished.

'However, to answer to your question from before, _Maren_ Køhler is fine. In recovery at the moment.' When Lukas lifted his head, his expression blank, the doctor let loose a small smile. 'Judging by your nationality, I assume you know what that means?'

Lukas' brain died.

Maren.

'A woman… That explains _a lot_ ,' he breathed in a daze. He then shook his head hurriedly and gazed deeply at the doctor. 'Can I see him, please? Sorry… _her_. Please,' he added as a tentative expression crossed the doctor's features, 'I need to see her. I need to know _why_.'

The doctor let out a resigned sigh. 'Alright, but no more than five minutes—'

'Fifteen.'

'What? No, I'll let you have ten—'

'Fourteen, then,' Lukas challenged.

'Twelve and a half, and not a second longer,' the doctor told him sternly, pointing a finger at him.

Seeing no alternative, Lukas nodded.

 **.**

As the doctor took him towards Matthias'—no, Maren's—room, Lukas tried to keep his gaze forward. The frontline hospital was a small one to begin with, but with the amount of injured soldiers that were filling up the halls and rooms made it appear even smaller. Lukas really didn't want to see in what conditions they were all in, but it was proved impossible not to, given the number of them in there.

He saw a few soldiers that he recognised from the trenches during the events that occurred three days prior. Many of them were either comatose or staring blankly at the ceiling. Walking past them, Lukas swallowed down the horror he felt when he saw the state of their wounds: a few had their arms in slings while others appeared to have stumps for legs, or trouble with their eyes. Every single soldier had bloodied bandages, and Lukas swore he heard some screaming in pain nearby.

He turned his head to face forward. He couldn't look at them. He didn't want to see Maren in the same state either…

Reaching a line of doors, Lukas stopped breathing. He watched as the doctor opened one of them and peered in, and Lukas began to wonder why Maren had a separate room as opposed to all the other soldiers. Then he remembered that Maren was no longer Matthias, and that a woman in the middle of a warzone who had been posing as a man this entire time was probably not safe amongst the others.

Lukas stiffened when the doctor turned to face him. 'I'll send a nurse to escort you out once your time is up,' was all he said and he gestured for Lukas to enter.

 _This is it._ Lukas took in a deep breath and entered the room. Upon doing so, his breath hitched at the sight that lay before him, just as the door shut with a soft _click_ behind him. The room was a small one, with only a bed, a bedside table and two chairs, one by the bed and the other in the corner. Everything was white, from the sheets on the bed to the paint on the walls, to the gown Maren was wearing— _oh dear Lord…_

Lukas' eyes settled on her face and suddenly, all the frustration and fear he had been feeling for the past three days left his body. He nearly cried from the _relief_ that washed over him like a wave when he saw her looking well. He noticed that she was still rather pale and, as his eyes scanned the rest of her figure, Lukas could clearly make out the bloodied bandage on the shoulder that wasn't covered by her gown. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising softly and he wondered whether she was asleep or unconscious. _At least she looks peaceful…_ he thought.

Just seeing her made Lukas' mind whirl. There were still so many questions. _A woman… she's a woman… how did she get away with it?_

Lukas' eyes shamelessly roved over her body, determined to figure out how on earth she managed to hide her femaleness. From what he could see, Maren was by no means underdeveloped, and he deduced that she had most likely bound herself in order to appear flat. In fact… now that Lukas looked more closely… Maren looked a lot smaller out of her uniform. Not necessarily shorter or less broad… she just appeared to be that way.

He shook his head. _Must be the light… She looks exactly the same as Matthias. Idiot, they're the same._

Drawing back the chair by the bed, Lukas sank down into it before moving it closer to the edge. His knees touched the wood and he gazed intently at Maren's slumbering face. His mind raced with a million and one thoughts about everything that had happened thus far. What had been the truth? What had been the lies? Just how much of an act had Maren put on to be Matthias? Were they truly the same person?

Breathing in, Lukas settled with a soft, 'So… Maren, huh?'

At his voice, Lukas watched as Maren's eyes fluttered open and locked onto his face. His heart panged a little painfully at the look of horror that enveloped Maren's features, but the feeling immediately dissipated when her gasp of his name and her attempt to sit up made him focus. Maren let out a groan of pain when she moved to sit up properly and Lukas merely told her while gently touching her arm, 'No, you're still recovering. No moving for you yet.'

Sighing, Maren's expression turned sheepish. Lukas couldn't blame her for being so because after all, she was a woman on the frontline. Yet, for some reason, Lukas didn't care about that. So what if she was a woman? Who cares?

'So… now you know…' Maren whispered in a small voice, her eyes darting away from his. Lukas was taken back at the change in pitch of her tone, and then realised that she must have been talking deeply on purpose in order to come off as male. 'I understand if you're, you know, betrayed, angry, disgusted… for what's a woman posing as a soldier other than an abomination? A disgrace? A sin?' She laughed an empty laugh and ran a trembling hand through her hair, the hair that Lukas had so often commented suited her as Matthias—albeit quietly and with a huge blush. 'I understand if you never want to speak to me again… I've lied to you, hurt you no doubt. I won't hate you for it.'

There was a pause. Then Lukas muttered, 'Huh… even as a woman you're an idiot.'

Hurt flashed across Maren's face at his words, but it faded when Lukas smiled fondly at her, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. It was strange, but Lukas wasn't as affected by Maren's news as he should have been. He was still confused as to why on earth she did what she did, but the nature of the situation seemed… almost a normality rather than an abnormality. The heart in his chest still held the love he felt for Matthias, and it didn't change now that he knew that Matthias was Maren.

He loved them both, if such a thing was possible.

'I understand, Maren,' he began. 'It's not something you could have told me—how could you? I could have ratted you out to the officials. I have nothing to hate you for… in fact I rather admire you. It's a brave thing you've done, and what a mighty fine soldier you were.' He took her hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb with a feather-light touch. 'But tell me… why? Why on earth would you risk your life to be on the frontline? To put yourself in danger in order to save someone?' He shifted in his seat. 'Which I, um… I appreciate… Thank you, Maren… but again, you're an idiot, you could have died!'

Lukas became alarmed when he saw Maren staring at him, on the verge of tears. But she was smiling wider than he had seen her smile in _months_ , since the awful sickness that had taken most of their men at the start of the year. The smile was so beautiful, so bright, that Lukas felt his heart repairing itself a little bit.

'You… you really are something,' Maren told him breathlessly. But then the smile fell, just like it had done on the train long, long ago. 'But my reason is the same as the one I told you on the train—remember?' She sighed. 'I'm sure you'll have figured out by now what they want me to be?'

As the pieces started to click together in his head, the more Lukas came to understand. He nodded and said, 'A wife, no doubt.'

'Yes.' She sniffed and aimed her gaze towards the ceiling. 'A wife… a mother, a dutiful daughter, to bring wealth to the family, so on and so on. You get the idea.' She let out a deep breath. 'That is the fate that awaits me. They're sending me home the minute I'm fully recovered, which shouldn't be too long. No doubt they've been informed of my little adventure.' Her voice choked up a little when she added, 'I'll be ruined for the rest of my life.'

'Not if I have anything to do with it.'

Looking sharply at Lukas, Maren's eyes went wide. Lukas didn't know what had overcome him, but he didn't want to see Maren so upset, or be subjected to what was waiting her back home in London. His mouth was running faster than his brain, but then again… it wasn't as if he was lying, was he?

He tightened the grip on her hand as he said lowly, 'Despite the circumstances, my love for you does not waver. Marry me here, Maren, and you won't have to deal with whatever awaits you home.'

Maren gaped at him, her eyes round as dinner plates and her mouth parted in shock. Lukas laughed inwardly. _This is all incredibly ironic…_ But he didn't look away, didn't break the contact he had with her. He was more serious than ever. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be able to love her.

But his heart plummeted into his stomach when Maren started to slowly shake her head. 'Lukas… as much as I would like to, we _can't_.' She gazed forlornly at him. 'I wish we could, god I do… but you—you don't know my family. My father is a monster and my mother is a ruthless _bitch—_ ' She gasped, and immediately spluttered, 'I apologise—'

'Don't.' Lukas grinned at her gently. 'Swear, I don't care. I've heard it all before.'

Maren sent him a look. 'Yes, but I was a man then. I have limitations now—'

'Not with me.'

Chuckling, Maren gave him a watery smile. 'But yes… they'll renounce the marriage straightaway. It's hopeless, Lukas… I wish it were another way, but I'm afraid that's how it is. It breaks my heart because _I love you so much…_ '

She broke off and Lukas, in turn, felt his heart break once more. He could see where Maren was coming from: no woman had freedom like a man, not when it came to marriage. It was tradition in their society and Lukas was devastated because of it. He loved her, more than he could relay into words, loved her as Matthias and as Maren, no matter what their situation was. He told her so, said to her that he understood, and then kissed the backs of her hands and her cheeks as he wiped away the tears that had begun to fall down her face. They didn't say anything more on the topic, choosing to sit together in silence, though not an uncomfortable one.

Lukas rubbed circles on Maren's hands—those beautiful hands he had admired since they had met—and pressed kiss after kiss all over her face. She tried to smile, but Lukas could see right through the barrier she had put up for herself: she was scared, terrified of going home. He was too, for her sake. He was also afraid that the war would become worse and that he, personally, would never see her again. Lukas felt bitter about the whole ordeal: why did God torture him like this, to make him meet the love of his life during war? Only for her to be taken away from him, most likely never to be seen again?

But as he took her in, her pink lips, freckly skin and heart-stopping, so very bright eyes, Lukas vowed that he would never forget such a sight. Never forget _her_. As he thought that, his left breast pocket suddenly became heavy against him.

'I'll always remember you,' he mumbled abruptly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his swan. 'I have this after all. My good luck charm from my damsel in shining armour.'

Maren laughed, a proper laugh, one Lukas hadn't heard for a while. She then murmured, 'I've got mine too. It survived the shot, luckily. I made the nurses return it to me. I'll cherish it forever, I will… provided we never meet again.'

Lukas gazed at her long and hard. _This… can't be the end. It can't. I won't let it be._ One of his hands stroked her cheek, tracing the length of her eyebrow with his thumb. She looked at him curiously, but he didn't say anything. _I will see her again. I'll see her again… and we'll be happy. We'll be together again._

'We will meet again. I'm sure of it.' He leant forward and kissed her deeply. He wanted to savour the feeling of her lips on his, wanted to remember the sigh she let into it and how she kissed him back. God, he never wanted to part from her. Breaking softly apart, he whispered, 'We will. Maybe one day we'll be happy. Who knows? The world is changing.'

'Yes… we shall see.' Maren pressed her lips to Lukas' once more, lifting her hands to hold his face delicately in her palms. Then she rested their foreheads together and said, 'You're going to have to tell them I died. You know… the others.'

Having been so caught up with Maren, Lukas had forgotten about the others back in the trenches. No doubt they were worried sick about who they knew as Matthias, whether he was alive and well. Lukas knew, of course, that he had to tell them something.

'They can't know about me, Lukas,' Maren told him sternly. 'For their sakes and mine. The fewer people know the better. I don't want them getting into trouble.'

Lukas nodded in agreement. She did have a point. But Lukas hated being the bearer of bad news. He was not looking forward to this.

'I'll do my best.'

Maren smiled at him and kissed him again. ' _Jeg elsker dig_ ,' she mumbled against his mouth and Lukas repeated the phrase in his mother tongue, as sincerely as he possibly could.

That was the last thing he ever said to her for the door opened and a nurse came in a huff. She glared at Lukas and reprimanded him with, 'I've given you _fifteen_ minutes! Now out before I get scolded.'

 **.**

Walking along the path back towards the trenches, Lukas' heart was heavy and his left breast pocket was fuller than ever. Going back without Maren by his side irritated him, like there was a missing entity of him that was only in her. Thinking back to the hospital room, Lukas was surprised at himself for having not broken down at the sight of his beloved. He wondered why he was so calm…

Sniffing, Lukas smiled to himself. They would meet again one day. He vowed to himself that he would strive to survive this war so he could see Maren again, to hold to her, to kiss her, and to love her more than ever. The feeling of her mouth on his still lingered on his lips, and his fingertips brushed them, determined to ingrain the sensation there forever.

By the time he got back to the trenches, the sky had darkened, encompassing the horizon with an orange glow as the sun began to sink. There wasn't as much artillery fire, but Lukas made sure his helmet was in firmly in place as he entered their dirt-walled fort. He went in search of his friends, and he saw that they hadn't moved from the positions he had seen them in before he had scurried off.

Marcus was the first one to notice his return. 'Lukas, you're back!'

Samuel and Arnaud glanced up and smiled at him. Marcus stood up from his spot and rushed up to Lukas, grabbing him by the shoulders. There was concern in his eyes, though it was masked by what Lukas was alarmed to identify as hope.

'How is he? Is he alright?'

The world around him slowed. His brain stopped functioning as Marcus' questions spun around in his head. There was something wrong… Why did he feel so lost? When it hit him, Lukas stood there, stunned. Now he realised why he had been so calm in the hospital room… Maren had been there with him. Her presence was there. There was nothing to be afraid of. He had felt invincible. The war had been a backburner while he had been with her. Now as he took in the grimy faces of his friends, the uniforms, the smoke of the guns filling the air, a crushing weight fell on his chest.

Matthias wasn't there. Maren wasn't there. He had lost his best friend. His best friend wasn't there, by his side, laughing about the idea of being shot dead and promising to protect them all from the Germans. His best friend and love wasn't there to hold his hand, to whisper stupid jokes in his ear before going to sleep, to press kisses to his face or whisper words of love.

For the first time in a very long while, Lukas felt alone. Despite Marcus, Arnaud and Samuel being there, Lukas felt bitterly alone.

The very idea of Maren not experiencing this war with him as she had done since they had met made him empty.

His silence must have said it all for Marcus let go of him and took a step backwards. His voice choked as he whispered Lukas' name, his tone embedded with disbelief, wanting to be absolutely sure that what he was thinking wasn't true. Samuel stared at Lukas with round eyes and Arnaud was shaking his head slowly, completely in denial.

Seeing his friends like that made something in Lukas snap. Before he knew it, there were fast tears dripping off his jaw and his bottom lip quivered. He felt like such a petulant child for exposing himself as he did, but as the mortifying truth hit him that the most important person to him was not there with him, that she had almost _died_ saving his life… he couldn't help but cry as everything he had repressed for the past three days caught up with him.

 _I'm horribly selfish… Who knows what this war is going to bring? Do I really want Maren to have to face that again? She's already been shot once…_

'Lukas?' Marcus repeated waveringly. 'Lukas, no… please…'

'He's gone.'

Lukas' voice was so small he wondered if the others heard him. He looked them in the eye, one by one, and saw that yes, they had heard him. It was as if a bomb had fallen on them all. None of them could move. None of them could speak. None of them could even bring themselves to cry of their own accords—no, their bodies did that themselves as tears lined their bottom lids, spilling over in twos and threes.

Licking his lips, Lukas whispered once more, 'He's gone. Matthias… is dead.'

The lie burnt his tongue, made his entire mouth feel like sandpaper, but he had to do it… for Maren. The howl that met his ears made him gasp—who it came from, he had no idea, for he sank to his knees, allowing the throttling sobs to escape. While he knew that Maren was safe and sound and not dead, the situation wasn't any less saddening. Lukas felt someone's arms wrap around him and, once noticing that it was Samuel, he embraced him back. They cried into each other's necks, and Lukas saw Marcus punching the trench wall over Samuel's shoulder, growling in rage before he simply sagged against it, weeping silently. Arnaud was the only one who stood where he was, his face slack in shock and his body trembling.

There was one thought circling their minds: _the first one of us to die._ But the question that remained was one that none of them wanted to answer.

Who's next?

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

 _March, 1919, London_

 **.**

Leaving the station, with the train retreating with a shrill whistle, Lukas took in a deep breath of London air. Taking in his surroundings, Lukas couldn't quite believe that barely anything had changed in the past four years, since he had left that very station in 1915. Shrugging his bag strap further up his shoulder, he ventured off onto the footpath, watching some of the other soldiers parting ways and heading home.

Home for Lukas wasn't too far from the station, but since it was a rather calm day—though a bit chilly—he decided to go for a walk, to take in London after being away from it for so long. It was amazing how much he had missed the place, missed the bustling people going to and fro, missed the colours of the autumn, the crispness of the air… yet he missed nothing and no one more than Maren.

While he had hoped that her trip back home had been a safe one with no complications, Lukas had dreadfully pined for her. Yet despite being disappointed that she hadn't been with him—as Maren or Matthias—Lukas was glad that she had been out of harm's way. Those three years they had been apart had been slow and agonising: the battles had been long and bloody, he had seen more of his comrades die than survive, and he had almost been shot at least twenty times throughout it all.

As he ambled down the main street, Lukas thought about just how lucky he was to have survived it all. He was exhausted, heartbroken and lonely, but he was _alive._ He felt more alive, walking in the afternoon in London, with the sun beating down on his face, than he had felt for the past three years. His hand drifted to his left breast pocket, feeling the bumps of his lucky charm. After all this time, Lukas still had Maren's swan close to his heart, taking it out every night to kiss its head and run his fingertips over it.

But it, unlike him, had survived the war unscathed.

The memory burned in his mind: a fiery and desperate battle in the mud, with no ammunition, just a rifle and a bayonet; a tussle for dominance ended up being a slash to the stomach for Lukas and a stab in the heart for his German opponent. All that remained of that fight was a long, dark red, jagged scar that ran from Lukas' bottom rib on his right side, all the way across to the top of his left hipbone. He had been lucky enough that the wound itself had not been too deep for it to kill him or ruin his organs.

Shaking his head, Lukas ran his palms down the front of his uniform and started walking towards the city centre. For the first time since 1915, Lukas was glad to be home.

But before heading home, Lukas had the desire to familiarise himself with the beauty of London once more, to get rid of the horrible memories of the war, of the trenches and the craters the bombs had left behind, to get rid of the stench of gunpowder and mud that seemed to reside in his nostrils.

Lukas strolled around London for several hours. He went into the many parks the city had to offer, many of them still covered with a thin layer of snow, passed by many shops that hadn't been there before the war, breathed in the fresh, crisp air and allowed himself to let loose a bit. He had no one to give him orders anymore… no more generals, no more captains, no more majors. The war was over. He was free. His mind was clear.

However, the citizens of London didn't want Lukas to, it seemed, forget what he had been through. The people he passed stared at him, their eyes sorrowful and their expressions filled with a silent mourning. There were people who took in his uniform and merely gaped, as if unable to believe that there were people who had survived the war, who were _home_. Lukas had gotten a surprise when he had been approached by a group of children—a mixture of both girls and boys, no older than seven years old—who came up to him and saluted him wonkily. Having broken a little smile, Lukas patted their heads and saluted them back.

 _It's odd to be back in this normalcy_ , he thought as he turned towards the path leading to Björnstad House. _There are still people here. Still there are the trees and the air. The buildings and the language of us Brits. Yet, why does it feel so… foreign?_

Looking ahead, Lukas took in the path. It was the path he had walked up and down many times through the years. It was the path that, at this point, was leading him home. It was bordered by huge, thick trunks of oaks on either side of the gravelled path, the branches dotted with patches of snow. Coming to a pause in the middle, Lukas tilted his head backwards to see the height of the oaks around him. It had been too long since he had last seen a tree, let alone one with greenery. All the trees he had seen on the frontlines had been blackened, stripped bare of its jaded beauty, its foliage which rose majestically to the sky. Gazing at the tops of the oaks, Lukas could see that they were only just starting to bloom, what with the beginning of spring in the air. Despite its nakedness and white blanket, Lukas thought it was so incredibly beautiful, so close to home that he felt some heavy weight on his chest lift.

Moving forward again, Lukas kept his eyes focused on the trees' branches, its budding leaves. They sung to the heavens, their thin fingers reaching towards the sky, almost touching the orange clouds that drifted past. He sighed deeply, contently, and smiled softly.

 _This is paradise._

Only, Lukas really should have looked where he was going because the next thing he knew, he had crashed into someone. In an instance of surprise more so than an actual crash, it caused them and himself to fall onto the snowy ground, their possessions dropping around them in the process. Apologising profusely, Lukas started picking up the fallen items around their forms—the person had a basket, into which they returned their possessions—and he froze when he saw the stranger pick up his swan. Clearly it had fallen out of his pocket in their moment of collision, and Lukas watched as they brought the wooden animal to their face.

Lukas followed their movement, and his eyes landed on the face of the stranger, allowing him to take them in fully. It was a woman, taller than he was, even when kneeling, with blonde hair that had been twirled into a bun. There were thousands of freckles lining her cheeks—much like Maren's, Lukas recalled—and her eyes were so blue that Lukas found it hard to think. They were so much like Maren's that he couldn't believe how similar they were. He wondered if it was her. But no… it couldn't have been. His Maren had short hair, was boisterous and humorous, wore a uniform, pants and thick boots—not like this woman, not a goddamn dark green dress, heeled boots, or black, feminine gloves, or a necklace and earrings.

Yet… as she tore her gaze away from the swan to Lukas' face, he heard her breath hitch and saw her eyes widen considerably. Putting the rest of her items back in the basket, she left it sitting on the ground as she slowly stood up. Lukas stood up with her after making sure his bag was by his feet, and held out his hand for the swan, a silent plea for it to be returned.

What he heard—and it was the last thing he expected to hear—was a strangled gasp and a soft whisper of, 'Oh god… it's _you_. Isn't it… Lukas?'

Lukas frowned deeply, very confused, and the woman laughed breathlessly, a huge smile forming on her face and a few tears falling down her cheeks making Lukas alarmed at her reaction. But it was the smile—that bloody smile that made everything around him slow down, simply from the sheer _beauty_ it retained—that made him realise exactly _who_ he was staring at, because only one person had a smile like hers.

His jaw dropped in shock. 'M-Maren?'

It took her a split second to let out an incredulous sound and to lunge forward in order to hold Lukas against her. Lukas, for the first time in a very long while, didn't hesitate to embrace her back, squeezing her form tightly. She smelled _amazing_ , like cinnamon, like a bakery, like _home_ , and he held the back of her head as he pressed his face into her shoulder. Lukas could feel her sobbing and chuckling, whispering, 'Oh god, it _is_ you! Oh god… my darling…'

They pulled away from each other momentarily, and Lukas saw Maren's face light up with so much joy that he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile, when he saw it. She looked older, no longer baby-faced as she had been back when he had last seen her, and she had grown taller. There was a maturity to her and she _glowed._ Lukas hadn't seen such a glow since the war broke out.

Maren's hands found his jaw and she shook her head, muttering 'Oh, thank god… You survived… Oh my god, you're home!' She laughed, and the sound sent ripples through Lukas' body. 'You're home…'

Heading into another embrace, Lukas allowed himself to run his fingers over the fine strands of Maren's golden hair, to draw circles on her back, to press kisses through her dress on her shoulder… Out of everything he had seen that day, Maren was by far the best. He felt more at home in her arms than he had stepping off the train, more than he had walking down that wooded path. He savoured the moment, letting his eyes close as the scent of Maren overwhelmed him.

 _I was wrong._ This _is paradise. She's my paradise._

A moment later, they parted once again, only for Maren to whisper, 'Welcome home, Lukas.'

Lukas smiled at her, a content, closed-lip one. 'It's good to be home.' And it was.

Maren chuckled and her eyes flicked down to the swan that was still in her palm. 'You kept it,' she said to him, wiping away the few tears that bordered her chin. 'All these years, and you still have it.'

'Of course.' Lukas took it from her hand, kissed its head and gazed at her as he continued with, 'My lucky charm from my damsel in shining armour. It served its purpose well.' Placing it back into his pocket, Lukas grabbed both of Maren's hands in his and stroked the backs of them with his thumbs. 'It brought me home… to you.'

The smile on Maren's lips only grew larger, her eyes sparkling. She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when someone nearby spoke.

'Good evening, Miss Maren.'

Turning his head to the voice, Lukas saw a small, elderly woman walking down the path towards them. She had a secret smile on her face, her crinkled eyes covered by the shade of her hat. Lukas watched as Maren locked onto her and nodded hurriedly, agreeing with her statement it seemed. 'Yes, Mrs Potts. It is a good evening indeed.' As the old Mrs Potts went past them, Maren paused, frowning deeply for several moments. Then her eyes blew wide open and she hissed out a, 'Oh shit,' and went after the woman.

'Mrs Potts, wait!'

Lukas watched, baffled, as Maren caught up to the old woman—who had made some distance, despite her age—and started talking to her, her voice quiet and hands animatedly moving around. Lukas struggled to hear her, but he was surprised to see her being a little afraid and on the verge of desperation. _How odd…_ Maren spoke a little louder, and Lukas heard her saying, 'Not a word to anyone, _please_ … I beg you, Mrs Potts,' and Mrs Potts nodded gently as she took Maren's hands. They conversed for a while longer, Lukas still unsure of what exactly they were conversing about; he found himself blushing when the one thing he did hear was, 'He's a handsome man, Miss Maren—and a soldier to boot!'

They exchanged farewells, going their separate ways, and Maren returned to Lukas. Her cheerful expression had been replaced with a serious one, one so serious that Lukas became rather concerned.

'Lukas… I know this is sudden, but I need to head home—and quickly.'

Bending down to her basket, she rummaged through it, pulling out a notepad and a pen. She jotted something down on the page, ripped it out and pressed it into Lukas' palm.

'Meet me at this address this coming Friday at noon,' she told him, her tone quiet and firm. 'Tell no one, this is essential. I hate to be abrupt, but I really must get home. I'm afraid I have a bit of a curfew… But I will explain everything there, yes? We can talk and catch up properly. We have three years to go through, after all…'

Feeling a bit disappointed at the fact that they were parting so soon, Lukas nevertheless nodded, promising her that he'll be there. Why wouldn't he be? Maren relaxed slightly, picking up her basket and kissing Lukas' cheek. She told him a soft good evening, see you next Friday, and started heading off. But Lukas didn't let her leave him that easily; he gripped her arm and brought her back to him.

'You missed,' was all he said to her before closing the distance between them and kissing her properly. He heard the basket drop onto the ground again and he felt Maren's hands frame his face as she returned the kiss firmly, passionately, _lovingly._ She moved away quickly, sighing before telling him, 'I really must go. But Friday, Lukas… I'll see you Friday.'

'I'll be there.' He smiled and tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear. 'I love you.'

An odd expression passed over Maren's face, one which Lukas couldn't decipher. But the next thing he knew was that he was being pulled forward by his cheeks and being kissed again.

'I love you,' Maren said, then she kissed him again. 'I love you.' Once more she kissed him. 'I love you.' One more. 'And don't let anything anyone says to you or what you hear tell you otherwise. I love you, and only you, Lukas Bondevik—don't you forget it.'

Nothing more is said between them as Maren takes her leave, grasping her basket and hurrying down the path. Lukas is left dumbfounded as he watches her go—but he grins hugely and covers his mouth with his hand, letting out a quiet, 'YES!'

He had found her.

It had taken him three years, but he had found her again. She was the most _beautiful_ thing he had ever seen.

But little did Lukas know just exactly what had occurred in those three years they had been apart.

No idea at all.

 **.**

Once he could no longer see Maren's retreating figure, Lukas took the rest of the path towards home. He realised now that the closer he got, the more nervous he became. To think that it had been four years since he had seen his parents… It was unimaginable to think what they had been through. While Lukas was ready to face whatever argument his parents threw at him for running away and being away from home for so long, he also hoped that they understood why he had left, finally understood his reasons and his wishes of not wanting to marry for the sake of inheritance. There was more to marriage than just money, as Lukas had asserted many times during many arguments.

Perhaps he was being romantic, or just "unaware" of the way life worked, but Lukas didn't want to believe that inheritance and money were the most important things when it came to marriage. Perhaps it was a new order of thought he was pursuing, but Lukas preferred the idea of being married to someone he _loved_ , with or without money, than to marry a stranger just for the sake of keeping the bloodline going.

Sighing delicately through his nose, Lukas reached the end of the path after about twenty minutes. In the distance, amongst a backdrop of wooded green, away from the bustling, crowded city centre of London, he saw the outline of the Bondevik manor, tall and grand, old yet utterly breathtaking. The building seemed to go on forever, the endless windows lining the brickwork flaming from the sunset; their luscious garden remained as beautiful as ever, roses and poppies, bluebells and violets beginning to bud from the taste of spring in the air; the gravel road leading to the front door shone a pale cream, the crystals in the stones glimmering from the remaining sunlight.

Lukas had missed the place. Nothing had changed, not a single thing, and Lukas found himself feeling nostalgic.

 _Has it really been four years?_ He shook his head in incredulity. _I wonder if everyone is still here… It will be nice to see some old, familiar faces._

Walking faster, Lukas wasted not a single second. He travelled quickly up the gravelled trail until he was standing in front of the huge oak entrance, with its gleaming handles and varnished coat. Swallowing his nervousness down into the pits of his stomach—or at least, as far down as he could make it go—Lukas raised his fist. He hesitated for a brief moment; he steeled himself and knocked twice. Stepping back a bit, Lukas waited.

It was only a minute or so that passed when there was the click of the door opening. The very sound went through Lukas, and suddenly he felt like an outsider—but it was only for a solitary instant for when he saw the withered, somewhat hunched butler of the Bondevik manor, a figure that had been with him since his infancy, a massive weight was removed from his shoulders.

'How can I help you—?' The butler, at the sight of Lukas, gasped loudly, his jaw dropping in shock and his question dying on his tongue.

Lukas gently smiled. 'Hello, Baxter.'

Baxter laughed disbelievingly, and Lukas could see that the poor man was unsure of whether or not to hug Lukas, to welcome him home in a physical manner. Lukas answered for him, engulfing the old man into a tight embrace—and he, no doubt, was most likely _astounded_ at the action, for Lukas was known to be one of the _least_ affectionate people in their circle of associates—and Baxter hugged him back just as hard.

'Good God Almighty! I can't believe it…' Baxter removed himself from his young master, his thin lips stretching to his ears. 'Master Lukas… you're home!'

Lukas huffed, but he sent Baxter a smile of his own regardless. 'How many times, Baxter? None of the master business—just Lukas.' He cleared his throat. 'Are my parents home?'

'Yes, they're in the drawing room.' Baxter raised his eyebrows. 'Shall I get them for you?'

Walking into the grand hallway, Lukas' eyes roved over the shiny floor, the mahogany rail of the massive staircase that lead to the upper floors, the vases of flowers—from their garden, of course—sitting on the chests of drawers that lined the sides of the vast place and the archways that lead deeper into the manor. Lukas breathed in the smell of the place.

Then he grinned inwardly at the thought of sweeping Maren into this hall, of showing her around the manor and introducing her to his parents.

The true love of his life…

Imagine…

 _One day I will make that a reality._

Realising suddenly that Baxter's question had gone unanswered, he pondered on the thought for a moment before telling him to send his parents to the library, emphasising to not tell them of his arrival. Baxter nodded and went off to fetch the Lord and Lady of the manor, but not before turning around and saying wistfully, 'Lukas Bondevik… I'd never thought I'd live long enough to see you again.' He ran up the stairs towards the drawing room, whistling cheerfully.

Baxter was by no means a young man—he was rather old, but Lukas found himself thinking how much younger the butler looked then, like a teenager, running up the stairs with a smile to rival the brightness of the sun.

Lukas made his own way up the stairs, going towards the library. He stopped by his bedroom, dropping his bags in there. As he walked, Lukas took in his home. Nothing had changed. The walls were still full of paintings, the rooms with their sapphire curtains and white, lace-trimmed sheets, the perfume of lavender wafting through the house's entirety, the deep purple carpets cast along the floors on each floor and the staircase…

But there was a stillness to the house that hadn't been there when he had left.

The halls were usually bustling with servants, rushing to and fro, morning to evening. There was noise, either from the kitchens downstairs in the servant's quarters or in the rooms as the daily cleaning began. But silence was the only thing that Lukas heard. The collar of his uniform appeared to choke him, strangle him as compensation of the loss of life in the house. Then a horrible thought wandered into his mind, of whether some of the younger men—the valets, the footmen, the stable boys—had been sent off to war in the later years and had died on the front.

Lukas was quick to shove that idea away as he entered the library. The familiar smell of books and aged paper, that musky aroma of loved and adored pages, hit Lukas full force. He unconsciously made his way over to his favourite shelf, to the corner where he had spent the majority of his childhood absorbed in the worlds of fiction, drama and romance. His long fingers traced the thick, leathery spines of large volumes of knowledge, of the creased covers of his favourite novels. His digits automatically found Lukas' first love, and he pulled out the copy of Brontë's _Wuthering Heights._ Slipping his thumb in between the pages, Lukas opened to a random chapter, his eyes drinking in Cathy and Heathcliff. _What I'd give to come back to these days,_ he thought, smiling at the memories of ten-year-old him, lost in his own little world with Cathy and Heathcliff.

But Lukas didn't have much to reminisce as much as he would have liked to for the voices of his parents and Baxter could be heard from the corridor.

'What is the meaning of this, Baxter?' his mother groused. 'Would you please just tell us what is going on?'

'Please, my Lady—I was told to remain discreet.'

'There better be a good explanation for this, Baxter.'

'I assure you, my Lord… It is perhaps the greatest thing to have occurred.'

Lukas heard the door open and he didn't turn around straightaway—for he had his back to them. He heard them enter, as well as the startled, 'Oh!' from his mother.

'Good evening, sir!' his father greets loudly. 'Welcome to Björnstad House—is there anything we can help you with?'

Taking in a deep breath, Lukas braced himself. Just hearing the voices of his parents made his throat constrict painfully. As much as they had annoyed him in the past, Lukas had missed his mother and father terribly.

'No, absolutely nothing…' he replies, shutting _Wuthering Heights_ with a soft snap, 'Father.'

Placing the book back on the shelf and turning around to face his parents fully, the look of _shock_ on their faces made something inside of him break. Just as the house hadn't changed, his parents hadn't either: his father was still strong in the shoulders, still towered over his small and wiry wife, who stared at Lukas with wide, blue eyes. The war had aged them, that fact couldn't be avoided, but they were still the same as Lukas remembered them when he had run away.

Perhaps it was seeing them that made Lukas fully register the amount of time that had passed: it had been four _years_ since he had left, since he had met Maren on the front, since he had last smelt all those books in the library, since he had seen Baxter and his parents. The brunt of it all hit him like a bomb, and he couldn't help the tearful smile that formed on his face when his parents rushed forward and embraced their son; in his mother's case, she sobbed into his neck, and in his father's, he pressed kisses into his hair.

'Oh god! My baby…' Lukas' mother cried, clutching onto him as if he was the last thing on Earth worth of any value. 'My darling boy… you're home!'

'Where have you been?' The weakness of his father's voice surprised Lukas a bit; his father was a man of authority, of boisterousness and loudness, of confidence and friendliness. 'It's been almost four years, Lukas…'

They parted from their holds and Lukas watched as his father's eyes trailed over his uniform, taking in the olive clothing with a look of astonishment.

'You joined the army…'

'I did.' Lukas regained his composure and sniffed. 'I did the moment I ran.'

'But how?' His mother shakes her head in disbelief; her hands did not move from Lukas' arms. 'You were sixteen…' A loud gasp was ripped from her throat as realisation dawned upon her. 'You didn't.'

'I did.'

'Lukas Bondevik, that is illegal!'

'And yet here I am.'

Nothing more was said on the topic, especially once Lukas' mother pulled him into another embrace, whispering in his ear how much she had missed him, how stupid he was for leaving and how glad she was that he was home.

Yes… he was _home._

 **.**

Sitting at the dining table, Lukas let out a deep breath. Dinner had been served, though conversation was minimal, making it a relatively quiet affair. It might have been due to Lukas and his parents having spent an hour and a half talking in the library, catching up on the past four years. Lukas had been met with an apology regarding the forcing of marriage upon him, something that he hadn't expected hear at all. He had been grateful and was relieved that the drama had ended.

About an hour before dinner, Lukas had freshened up, taking a moment to familiarise himself with Björnstad House once more. He had hung up his uniform—hopefully never to be worn again… one war had been more than enough—and changed into his dinner suit. But when he had left his room to head down to diner, Lukas had backtracked and grabbed the swan from the pocket of his uniform and placed it, instead, in the breast-pocket of his dinner jacket. Then he had shut the wardrobe doors, sealing away his uniform.

'Lukas, darling, you're not eating.'

Gazing at his mother, Lukas sent her a calm smile. He told her that he didn't eat much these days, as he couldn't remember the last time he had had a meal this rich or filling. It would take him a while to get accustomed to it again, and he told her not to worry. 'This is normal,' he said wisely. 'Especially after all the rations we had get used to.'

His mother merely stared at him sadly. Before she could say anything, however, when there was a timid knock on the dining room door. Opening with a slight creak, their kitchen maid, Sally, entered the room. Sally was a small girl, mousey with striking grey eyes that dug into someone's soul—or that was how Lukas described it. Sally was a long-time favourite of Lukas', and he had been sad to leave her the most when he had run away.

'Ah, Sally!' Lukas' mother smiled tenderly at the young girl—who was younger than Lukas by a year. 'Do you bring good news?'

'Yes and no, my Lady,' Sally whispered. She coughed lightly and said a bit louder, 'Lord Hexley is still doing the same thing, but I did see Lady Hexley looking… much chipper today, my Lady. She seemed very happy. There was a smile on her face and everything!'

'Really? How odd…'

Lukas frowned at his mother in confusion. _What on earth are they talking about? Hexley? Lady Hexley?_ But the conversation became lost when Sally, seeing Lukas sitting in his seat, gasped.

'Lukas!' she exclaimed. 'Oh Lord—I had no idea you were home!'

'Hello, Sally, my dear,' Lukas greeted her, standing up and allowing the shorter girl to hug him.

If one were to enter the Bondevik manor at that moment, they would have been in shock over what Lukas and Sally were doing. But the Bondeviks were different to the other English families, always had been. They didn't care what anyone said—they treated their staff as equals. Of course, there was no escaping the social barrier, but when it came to formalities, it wasn't a huge deal in the Bondevik household, hence the open affection between Lukas and Sally, and the first-name terms.

After welcoming Lukas home, Sally was kidnapped by his mother, and the pair became engrossed in deep conversation. Lukas watched them curiously, glancing at his father to see if he would provide him with an answer. When no such answer arrived, Lukas waited until Sally curtsied cutely and left the room, letting Lukas to stare at his mother.

'Mother?' At her hum, Lukas set down his cutlery and gazed seriously at her. 'Who are these Hexleys? Why are you interested in them?'

Much to his amazement, his mother's face fell. She let out a tired sigh and fiddled with her fingers as her eyes landed on her plate. Lukas became more and more curious about it all.

'Consider it… a duty of sorts, Lukas,' she began, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 'Lord Hexley and his family are ruthless mongrels. They consider themselves the "cream of the crop"—nasty bunch they are. There are rumours that Lord Hexley is a… well, needless to say, he beats his wife. They haven't been married long—about three years. Poor girl had been unwillingly married to the man. Some kind of punishment according to her family. I've been sending Sally to look out for her on Fridays, to see how she is, whether or not she has a new bruise somewhere—it's the only day she's allowed out of the house! It's a prison for her, that house, that family.'

Lukas' mother frowned deeply, irritation moulding around her features. She locked eyes with her son.

'If you were still around, I would have married her to you, just to save her from the horror of that manor. But then I realised I would have done the same thing as them to you. We can only pray that she survives long enough to have enough evidence to convict the monster.

'As to why I'm interested in her… I'm a mother and a woman, Lukas.' Lukas gaped at her as her expression formed into one of anger. 'No woman, no matter how horrible they are—not that I'm saying Lady Hexley is—deserves to be beaten to the point of madness.'

Nothing more is said on the subject and dinner resumes. Lukas took a moment to process everything he had just heard, and for some reason, an uncomfortable feeling formed in his stomach.

 **.**

The week passed by faster than Lukas had anticipated.

He had caught up with all the household staff—namely Sally—during that time and was quick to get back into routine. Since the war was over, Lukas found no need to rise at the crack of dawn, nor to be constantly alert for bombshells or shrapnel, or enemy snipers lurking nearby. The first couple of nights back had been restless for him, expecting every five minutes to be thrust back into war, back into the trenches of France. Lukas had woken up in cold sweats and with his friends' names on his tongue, his breathing short and dread building up inside of him. When he realised that he was, in fact, in his own bed, in London, he relaxed, but only slightly.

It was only the thought of seeing Maren again that put him off the edge—and the surprising letter he had received from Ludwig Beilschmidt on the Wednesday. His mother's reaction had been priceless when she had seen where it had come from, but Lukas hadn't elaborated as to why he had a German writing him letters. Instead, he had taken the letter to his room and read it, discovering that both he and Gilbert had survived the war. While they were both healthy and uninjured, Gilbert was suffering from terrible nightmares, and Ludwig had been pleaded by Elizabeta to come and help her take care of him. He promised to keep in touch with Lukas if he so wished, and Lukas had felt much happier that day. He was glad to know that someone had survived.

But it was Friday. Fingering the paper she had given him the previous week, Lukas stood in front of the house of which the address referred. It was a decent sized house, a cottage more than anything else, white and brown in colour. It had a picket fence at the front and small rose shrubs behind them, right underneath the windows. To Lukas, the house seemed an odd place to meet; he had knocked on the door upon arrival, just a bit before noon, expecting this to be the house in which Maren lived in. When there had been no answer, Lukas had moved to the front of the fence, looking down both ends of the street to see if Maren was coming.

Lukas was excited to see her, to be with her, to hold and cherish her, to catch up on those three years they've been apart. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long when he saw her turning the corner at the end of the path, heading towards him. She was wearing a dark blue dress that day, one with slightly shorter sleeves, given the warmer weather. When she reached Lukas, Maren smiled and gave him a quick greeting as she fished out a set of keys from her bag. She opened the door and let them in, shutting the door behind them with a _click_ once they were inside. Lukas shrugged off his jacket and it was then that Maren didn't hesitate to drop her items and kiss Lukas properly, her hands cupping his jaw.

'Welcome to my humble abode,' she said to him, gesturing the hallway after parting. 'I come here on Fridays, just to escape the madness of home a little bit. A friend of mine is letting me stay here—it's her home, but she's never here so I'm looking after it for her in a way.' The smile was back on her face, pink lips stretching to her ears; Lukas found himself being absolutely mesmerised by her. 'Shall I give you a tour?'

Forgetting everything else that had happened the past week, Lukas let himself be taken around the little house, following Maren into each room and listening to her excited voice as she showed him what was in there. He lost himself in the sound of her talking, letting the feeling of freedom overtake him. Wherever Maren was, Lukas felt comfortable. When they reached the last room, Lukas' calm feeling was replaced by something else. He suddenly found it hard to breathe, especially with the furtive look that Maren was sending his way.

'And this is the bedroom!' she sang, grinning at Lukas as they went through the doorway. Maren allowed her hands to trail up Lukas' chest, slowly, surely, until the tips of her fingers were tracing his jawline and her lips were millimetres away from his. 'I missed you.' She pressed their lips together, a brush of a touch. 'God, I did.'

Having no reply ready on his tongue, Lukas let his actions do the talking. He brought Maren towards him, making their bodies flush against each other and tilted his head upwards to kiss her deeply. Her breath tickled his lower lip as she sighed into his mouth, and her fingers threaded through his hair as his own ran up the soft curves of her back and hips. Heat thrived between them, a heat that Lukas never wanted to fade.

There was no war to tear them apart. There was no bullet wound to separate them. There was no pending danger to make their days together numbered.

Lukas' senses screamed Maren.

Maren, Maren, Maren.

She was all he cared about. She was the one thing that made him happy beyond belief. With her in his heart and soul, there was nothing that could make Lukas upset. This was love. He loved her, with his entire being. He had never loved anyone like this, nor could he think to love anyone more than he loved Maren.

Maren was the perfect being, and bloody hell, he had waited three years to be with her again! Nothing was going to separate them. _Nothing._

'You're amazing,' he whispered at their lips. He kissed her nose. 'You're so beautiful.' He kissed her cheek. 'You're more stunning than the stars.' He kissed her mouth and intertwined their hands together, fingers curling around each other and palms pressed together. 'You're…'

Lukas paused abruptly. Frowning deeply at the foreign feeling—and effectively ignoring Maren's puzzled call of his name—Lukas lifted their joined hands up and looked down at them. Seeing something in particular—something that made everything inside of him scream 'No!'—Lukas let go and hurriedly moved away from Maren.

Confusion enveloped her features and she tilted her head to the side. 'What is it, Lukas?'

Lukas swallowed.

 _This… this can't be!_

'You're married.'

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

 **Chapter warning: Mentions of suicide, mentions of rape.**

* * *

 _'_ _You're married.'_

Lukas watched as Maren's face fell and as her eyes flicked to her hand. There, sure as anything, was a gold band around her finger. Lukas gulped and tried not to focus on the crack that was forming on his heart. _Of course this was all too good to be true… It's been three years. It's been three years and you've been at war. What did you expect?_

Maren brought her hand to her chest, covering the ring with the other. The expression she then sent his way made him start questioning _everything._

'Lukas, I can explain—'

But Lukas shook his head, backing up to the door until he was flat against it. 'Maren… I can't.'

He ran his hands through his hair and over his face. This couldn't be happening. _Why? Am I not good enough? Did she get tired of waiting for me? Did she find someone else?_ But then other thoughts came barging into his head, such as _but then why would she be here? Why would she tell you she loved you if she was married all this time? There has to be something, right? Right?_

But this was wrong, he knew that. If people found out, they would be ruined forever. Maren especially. She would have that brand on her for the rest of her life. Lukas didn't dare do that to her. He could live with the shame of being caught in an affair, but he wouldn't put that same fate on her.

Lukas glanced at her again. 'I can't. For god's sake, you're a married woman! I love you, I really do… but we can't get involved in an _affair_ —Christ!'

However, Maren, it seemed, was having none of that. She stalked forward and grabbed Lukas' wrists tightly, making him look at her just from the intensity of her voice. 'It's not what it looks like, and by god, you will hear me out before you judge me.'

Freezing at her words, Lukas let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Her eyes were flashing with determination, her brow creased deeply, and that alone made him want to find out what the hell was going on. He thought he didn't want to know, but now that he thought about it, Lukas wanted to know everything.

But most of all… he wanted to know for certain if Maren's love for him still existed, because what else could marriage signify?

He hung his head in defeat, albeit still stiff as a board. He nodded and bit his lip in anticipation. Maren let go of him and moved towards the bed. Lukas lifted his head to see her sit on the edge and she wriggled the ring off her finger. Dumping it in the palm of her hand, Maren's face formed into such a look of disdain that Lukas couldn't come to terms with it. _What on earth is going on?_

'I'm a prisoner in my own home, Lukas,' Maren told him, her voice much softer than it had been. She glanced at him, ripping her gaze from the ring in her hand. 'I told you that my family would have a punishment ready for me the moment I returned… remember? In the hospital?'

Lukas took his mind back to 1916, to the frontline hospital at the Somme, remembering that yes, Maren's family sounded like a bunch of horrors. He hummed in acknowledgement, and saw Maren's expression shift into one of anger.

'Well… they were maddened by my "little sinful adventure" and so they decided to punish me straightaway—no need for waiting, they believed. They were appalled to say the least. They couldn't believe their own flesh and blood—their daughter no less!—had run away and fought in the war. They refused to believe it all, even after I showed them my wound…'

She paused, her voice dying in her throat. Breathing in deeply, she let it out slowly and her eyes moved from Lukas to the ring. Lukas' rigid stature had relaxed and he stared at Maren, wondering if what he was hearing was merely a dream, or if Maren's parents really were they monsters she had once described them as. His mind was in turmoil.

Maren continued. 'They made me into the one thing I didn't want to become, Lukas…' She laughed bitterly and made a fist with the hand that had the ring in its palm. 'They were determined to fulfil their initial goal, the one they had before I had run away—and so they did. They had found the nearest, available suitor and got us married the day after I returned—all as a punishment of course… and a new jewel in the crown for them.'

Lukas' eyes widened at the lone tear that fell down Maren's cheek, and dismay rocked his body as her voice became wobbly as she went on to say, 'I was dragged kicking and screaming to my own wedding. The priest didn't care that I refused to say my so-called "vows", didn't care that I was sobbing through the ceremony, that I was being _physically_ restrained from fleeing. He just married us and off I went…'

Maren chose to hang her head in an attempt to fight off sobs that were no doubt crawling their way up her throat. Lukas was in shock. Guilt overcame him, crashing through his body in wave after wave. Moving to the bed, Lukas sat down next to her, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders. She looked at him, bemused, and Lukas tried to apologise through his expression for thinking the worst possible situations. When Maren attempted to smile, Lukas felt his soul tear into two. He didn't know if he wanted to hear anymore.

But she continued nonetheless.

'My husband—ha, not that I call him that, but for the sake of the conversation—he doesn't give a shit about me. As long as I am his in mind, body and soul, he can do what he likes. His mother isn't much better, old fucking hag. His father died in the war, so he's not around. It's just them two, along with the entire staff. None of them help me when—'

She stopped momentarily, unable to go on—and yet, Maren still tried to stop herself from crying outright. Lukas' heart tightened in his chest, even more so than it already was, and he pressed a light kiss to her hairline. The action didn't go unnoticed by her and she stared at him blankly.

'You don't need to go on,' he told her, reaching a thumb towards her face and wiping away a tear that had escaped from underneath her eye.

'But you need to know, Lukas,' Maren retorted, sniffling. 'You need to know before you hear it from someone else.' Her head fell onto Lukas' shoulder as she sighed heavily. 'I'm his personal rag-doll. Whenever he wants to hit something, it's usually me. Whenever he wants to yell at someone, it's usually at me. Whenever he wants to… you know… sort out his "problem"… it's usually done to me, and there's nothing I can do to escape it. They're always watching me—except on Fridays, they've given me that liberty. I can't sneeze without someone in the house knowing I did so. I can't divorce him, I can't run away. Both his and my family are too powerful.'

Maren didn't speak again, choosing instead to hide her face in Lukas' neck. At her story, Lukas' brain had ceased to function and his blood had frozen into ice. He didn't know what he had expected Maren's family to have put her through as her "punishment" for running away from home and fighting in the war, but it certainly hadn't been this. He didn't know what to think, let alone what to say. But a thought suddenly came into his mind, one that made his heart halt.

This… all of this sounded way too familiar…

When it hit him, Lukas' mouth dried in terror.

'Maren?' When she gazed at him—fearfully and regretfully, much to Lukas' dismay—he whispered, 'Who are you married to?'

She sighed.

'Lord Hexley.'

At the name, Lukas couldn't help the gasp that came out of him, nor the splutters of shock. He couldn't believe it. He then managed to say, 'Oh god… they were talking about you.'

Maren stood up so fast Lukas jumped in alarm. Utter panic erupted on her face. 'Who? Who has been talking about me?'

He blinked at her for a second or two before breathing out gently. He stood up as well and placed his hands on her shoulders. The pads of his fingers stroked them softly, trying to loosen the tension in the muscles there.

'My mother and the kitchen-maid, Sally. They've been keeping a watchful eye on you. They mentioned you last week, at dinner… the day I came back. Nothing bad was said about you, I promise. They're genuinely worried about you.' He sucked in a breath. 'As am I.'

And he was. He was also terribly upset. Perhaps the most intense thing he felt, however, was rage. How dare these monsters subject Maren to this kind of torture? How dare that monster lay his hands on her? He was furious. But he kept his face calm, a façade of blankness. He didn't want to make Maren regret her choice of telling him.

He felt Maren relax underneath his palms—and visibly for her overwrought expression unwound—and her arms went around herself. Lukas hadn't seen her do that for _years_ : that was an action associated with Matthias, an action he committed whenever he was insecure or nervous, mostly whenever the boys asked him if he wanted to join them for a swim or a bath. Seeing Maren do that a good three years later shook him.

'Nice of them,' she uttered, before chuckling emptily. 'Too bad none of us can do more—and you know something? The ironic part of it all is that they all—him, his mother, my parents—want me to fulfil my duties as a wife, a daughter and a mother. And yet… yet, they fucking won't let me do any of them fully!' A deep scowl formed on her face as she spat out, 'I hate my parents. I hate him and his mother because they have stolen my freedom and won't even let me fulfil my so-called "duties" as a "proper" wife, daughter or mother! Not that I want to, but how else am I supposed to survive and have any means of sanity if they won't let me have a _life?_ Where is the logic in that? They won't even let me be with my son!'

As the words left her mouth, Maren gasped and removed herself from Lukas immediately, taking a few steps backwards. Lukas gaped at her.

 _My son…_

'You have a child?'

Seeing no getaway from the topic, Maren nodded in resignation.

'Yes. He's only a year and a half old. So yes, I had a child when I was eighteen—unwillingly, mind you,' she added as she went back to Lukas, her fingers tracing his forearms. 'But that's in the past, and it certainly wasn't the first or last time. But I'm not allowed anywhere near him, because I will "corrupt him" and "fill his head with lies". I've seen him a total of maybe twenty times since he was born, and that's only because I sneak into the nursery on nights when no one is watching, when my husband is out of town or when he's not in the same room as I am. My son is with the nurse the remainder of the time, or with his father.

'Ha!' she exclaimed, frowning deeply. 'At least they let me name him… of all things, and I can't be with him…'

Lukas was shattered. His hands travelled to Maren's waist, pulling her closer to him. He leant his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes in order to stop himself from spilling tears because he was seconds away from crying. _God… what monsters have possessed these people to treat her like this? Darling, beautiful, kind, loving, fearless Maren?_ My _Maren? Who gave them the permission to turn her into someone who fears for her life? Who has lost all hope? This isn't the Maren I have come to know… You've ruined her. I'll make you pay for this, you bastards._

Opening his eyes again, Lukas saw Maren focusing on him in curiosity. It was as if she waiting for him to say something about all of this, to leave her once and for all. But Lukas didn't want to do that.

Not now. Not now that he knew everything. He couldn't let her go back to that house thinking that she'd never see him again. He didn't dare allow it.

Pressing his lips to her forehead, Lukas turned the conversation back to her son, whispering against the skin, 'What's his name?'

Looking at her, he saw her crack a smile for the first time all throughout the explanation.

'Emil.' Maren grinned at him. 'His name is Emil… and he's such a good boy. He's so beautiful… It's a shame the man who is his father is Hexley, but he's _such_ a beautiful boy…'

Hearing her voice become soft, wispy with tenderness and love, Lukas felt his heart break. He was still trying to come to terms with everything he had just been told, and he was absolutely devastated over the fact that Maren—his wonderful, _wonderful_ , Maren—had become nothing more than an object, someone to be an outlet for this Hexley fellow. At the thought of the man, Lukas, at that moment, wanted to do nothing more than to give him a choice kick upwards and a solid punch to the face.

But he was pulled out of his thoughts when Maren withdrew, returning to the edge of the bed. He stared at her and he met her gaze when she raised her eyes to his face. Maren had her arms wrapped around herself again and a sad smile had formed on her lips.

Frowning, Lukas went through something Maren had told him, in his head. Then he asked her, 'Going by what you've said… Do you have more children, or is Emil your only one?'

Maren shook her head, and Lukas' body slackened—but only slightly. 'No, just him. What I meant was that I've been forced to lay with Hexley more often than not, and when Emil was… well, when he happened, it was a result from being forced against my better judgement. Nothing more or less than that.'

Silence settled between them and Lukas merely took Maren in—properly took her in—for the first time since 1916. It was only then that he noticed just how _pale_ she was, how there were huge, dark pockets under her eyes, how the crinkles around her eyes and mouth were not from laughter, but from crying and perpetual sadness. Her eyes, too, were not as bright as they once were. Lukas had remembered them as being as bright as a cloudless summer sky, filled with optimism because after all, he had fallen in love with those eyes first.

But that was _that_ Maren, _that_ Matthias. This woman in front of him had lost all that, had everything that was once her taken away from her. It hurt him _badly._ He wanted to take Maren back to Björnstad House, to declare to his parents that she was the woman he loved with all his heart, to marry her and _save_ her from the Hexleys, to give her the life she deserved… To be _free._

Maren sniffed and cleared her throat, bringing Lukas back to the present. She fiddled with her fingers and her ring, her eyes focused on them.

'I understand… I understand if you want nothing more to do with me…' she whispered, swallowing audibly—a sound that sent shivers racking down Lukas' spine. 'I really do. I mean… to be caught in an affair would not be a good outcome for either of us, so I can understand if you don't want to get involved. Like you said, I'm a married woman, after all… with a son to boot.' She lifted her head and smiled gently, but Lukas didn't like how that smile didn't reach her eyes. 'I forgive you for it.'

A moment passed between them. Lukas then snorted and muttered, as surely as he could, 'God, even after three years, you're _still_ an idiot.'

Maren's eyebrows dropped down in a frown as Lukas dropped down to his knees in front of her. His hands rubbed her arms slowly until the tautness in them loosened; he took her hands in his—placing the wedding ring on the bed beside her—and pressed several kisses to her knuckles. When his eyes landed on her confused expression, he explained.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

He wasn't. Like he had said to himself before, not now that he knew everything. He was there to stay, whether Maren or Hexley or his parents liked it or not. He loved her. God, did he love her. He wasn't leaving her in a moment like this. Maren was Lukas' most beloved person, and he would not give up on her. Lukas was astounded at his earlier thoughts, and he wished to rid of them for once and for all. He would prove to her that she was worth it, because bloody hell she was worth everything!

Lukas kissed her hands again and stretched out to tuck a piece of stray hair behind her ear.

'My love for you has not changed after all these years. The only thing that _has_ changed is the amount I feel.' He let a tiny smile cross his mouth. 'I can't not have you in my life, and despite the circumstances, I'm staying.'

Whatever Maren been anticipating to hear, it wasn't that, and a new wave of tears hit her, ones that cascaded down the planes of her cheeks. In spite of them, Lukas saw that she was smiling. He rose from his spot on the floor and sat next to her, planting kiss after kiss into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her. She embraced him back and buried her face into his neck, weeping softly.

 **.**

It was after half an hour of silence that they spoke again. They had found themselves, shortly after Lukas' promise, lying on their backs on the bed. They hadn't moved from their embrace—in fact, they had gotten closer to one another, relishing the warmth that had risen between them. The ring had been placed on the bedside table, away from Maren's finger.

It was after that half an hour that Maren lifted her head from where it had been on Lukas' shoulder and brushed a shy kiss on Lukas' cheek. He turned his head to touch their lips together, a final reminder that he was there, that he wasn't leaving her. He was there to stay.

Maren kissed him again, and then sighed into his mouth. He saw that her eyes were shut, her eyelashes fluttering as she then opened them to look at him. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and Lukas saw that she wanted to say something. When she did, Lukas thought he had misheard.

'You know… if it weren't for Emil and the hope I had that I would see you again, I would have killed myself long ago.'

The statement was so abrupt, Lukas had to ask her to repeat herself in case he had, indeed, misheard. When she said it again, Lukas' blood went cold.

'Maren…'

'It's true,' she told him, and the way her voice was embedded with casualness over the topic made Lukas' mind whirl. 'I was ready to do it at one point, but then I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't do it after that—and there was still the odd chance that I would run into you again, and that feeling only increased when the papers arrived with news that the war was over.'

She laughed a little, a little sadly, and she turned her gaze to the ceiling. Her tone became nothing more than a pensive whisper. 'I should have married you when you offered… maybe then my parents would have knocked themselves over trying to search for some kind of valid proof. It would have bought me an awful lot of time to escape again. I could have found you again. We could have eloped, started someplace new.'

The question came out before he had time to think it through. 'What's stopping you now?'

Maren shifted to look at him and he gazed back at her. He already knew the answer… of course he knew.

'I can't leave Emil.'

'No… I would be selfish in asking you to do so.' _What a stupid question, Lukas._ Then he frowned when a thought came his way—he remembered something Maren had mentioned back when they had first met… oh, an age ago… and now that he thought about it, why hadn't she mentioned it?

'What has your brother done about all this?'

Maren blinked at him in surprise. 'Berwald? Nothing. He doesn't know. As far as I'm aware, he still hasn't returned from the front—that or my parents are lying to me. Most likely the latter, but how am I to know? What I do know is that if Berwald knew, he wouldn't abandon me. We've been through too much together in order not to care.'

'I see…'

Nothing more was said. They returned to their silence, curling into one another for what seemed like a decade. Lukas never wanted to leave—he never wanted Maren to return to that hostile household, to be treated like nothing. She was far more deserving of a good life, of someone who would appreciate her in every way. His lips ran along her hairline, bringing her even closer to him, if such an act was possible. He wanted the clock to stop, so they could stay there together for eternity.

But time was against them and Lukas asked Maren, much against his will, what time she needed to be home.

'By five,' she told him. 'That's my curfew. But taking in travelling to and from, I should leave at half-past four, so I can get there on time.'

Digging into his trouser pocket, Lukas took out his pocket-watch and saw that they still had a while before they needed to part. _Excellent._

'Well, we still have time,' he said to her. 'Good… we have three years to catch up on, after all.'

The little smile he got from her made him a little happier—but the sensation of dismay lingered in his stomach. Lukas watched as Maren's fingers trailed up his arm, landing on his breast pocket. Stored in there was none other than his swan, and Lukas saw that little smile widen.

'Do you still have your nightingale?'

She tried to raise an eyebrow the way Lukas usually did, but failed, opting instead for a strange look. 'Of course I do. I have it on my person wherever I go. A little piece of you I always have.' She kissed him gently. 'I'll never get rid of it.'

Lukas settled for a delicate brush of his lips against her forehead, his arm tightening around her.

 **.**

They talked for the rest of the afternoon. Lukas didn't mention the war, and Maren didn't ask, something Lukas was grateful for. He wasn't keen on talking about it, so their conversations contained trivial topics, such as how much Lukas missed the greenery, the twittering of the birds in the morning, the sound of Maren's boisterous and kindly voice; how much he had missed her company, how dreary everything had been compared to what he had seen upon his return; and how much he missed her smile, her eyes, her everything, and Lukas was pleased when he had gotten a blush out of her. She told him about how she would spend most nights staring at her nightingale, praying for Lukas' safe return, that they would be together and live happily one day.

At other times, the pair were not very talkative, speaking instead through their kisses, the warmth they shared between them and the intimacy that sparked when they touched. They simply relished the peace, seeking each other's embrace after being deprived from it for so long. All of it burned a permanent mark in their memories, their psyche.

They also decided that Maren's free time on the Fridays would be spent with Lukas, meeting at that very house every time at noon. When Lukas initially protested, as he wanted Maren to have her own time to herself, she put it down immediately, retorting with, 'It's been three years, Lukas. For those three years, I have waited patiently to be with you again. Now that I have you in my sights and in my arms, I am not letting you go. I will grasp every available opportunity to be with you. Call me selfish, but that is how I feel.'

When Lukas mentioned Ludwig's letter, Maren's eyes lit up. He brought her up to date, detailing what had been in it, and watched as her face went blue at the news of Gilbert suffering night terrors.

'I'm sad to hear that…' she said. 'But I'm glad to know that they survived. Have you replied to him, yet?'

Lukas shook his head. 'I wanted to tell you first, for Ludwig is very confused as to why Matthias gave him a fake address and he wants to know what happened to him during the war.'

'Well…' Guilt passed over Maren's face. 'It wasn't as if I could give him my real address, could I? Especially with me being… you know…'

'I know.' Lukas paused, then said, 'Do you want me to tell him the truth?'

Maren's brow creased in deep thought. 'No… no, I think it's best if it came from me. Whether or not he'll believe me is another story, but I should try and explain myself.'

Lukas promised her that he would bring Ludwig's address to her the next Friday—as she had lost the original paper she had had with the address on it on the way back home from France—and that he would bring any future letters to her whenever he saw her. They parted that afternoon with a gentle squeeze of the hand before heading off in opposite directions.

Despite the circumstances and everything Lukas had learnt that day, he went home feeling satiated, satiated with Maren's love for him and his love for her. No matter what would be thrown their way in the future, Lukas was sure that their love for each other wouldn't waver.

 **.**

After a week of rain and icy wind, Friday turned out to be, surprisingly, much warmer. Lukas was waiting outside Maren's temporary house once more, by the white picket fence and the rose bushes. The sun was going right into his eyes, blinding him, so he tilted his hat so it covered a good portion of the light. Though it wasn't scorching, the weather that day was much, much warmer than it had been since Lukas had gotten back. Spring was slowly seeping in, a fact Lukas was both grateful and annoyed about. While winter wasn't his most favourite season in the world, neither was summer—in fact, Lukas hated summer more than he hated winter.

Lukas was pulled out of his thoughts on the weather when he saw Maren coming up the path. He smiled upon seeing her, but the smile disappeared rather quickly when he noticed that Maren was limping.

When she got to him, Maren greeted him and grinned. They walked—or limped, in Maren's case—up the small path to the door. The moment they got in, shedding any unneeded layers of clothing, Lukas couldn't help the horrified, 'Oh god,' that came out of his mouth.

At his exclamation, Maren turned to gaze at him curiously, but Lukas didn't really register her expression as he was too focused on her arms. While her dress sleeves weren't that short, they were short enough to show the dark purple bruises circling her wrists and dotting her forearms. There were patches that looked horribly like finger marks, as if someone had held her down with an iron grip. Seeing where Lukas was gaping, she turned away slightly.

'It's nothing that serious,' she muttered, stepping out of her shoes and sighing when her feet came into contact with the floorboards. 'I've had worse.'

Lukas stared at her in dismay. 'Worse?' He shook his head; he felt sick. 'Maren… they're _purple._ '

'I'm aware, Lukas.' She sighed again, and Lukas could clearly tell that this was something Maren did not want to discuss. 'This is him on a good day. It's _fine_. I'll survive. I have in the past.' She walked up to him and kissed him gently. 'Forget about him. This is our time, is it not?'

But Lukas pulled away. His voice caught in his throat as he told her, 'Maren… I can't forget him when he's gone and hurt you like this.' He gingerly reached out and ran his knuckles on the apple of her cheek. 'How dare he touch you…?'

Maren didn't reply, just merely turned her head to kiss Lukas' fingers. She grabbed his hands and led him to the bedroom, just like she had done the previous week. They found themselves lying down on it again, spending the next couple of hours they had together simply talking. They had their moments of silence, in which Lukas allowed himself to listen to Maren's breathing, to run his lips over her forehead and closed eyes, to shuffle down and hear her heartbeat thumping against her ribs in his ear.

Half past four came by quicker that day than either of them would have liked. They shared a heated kiss in the hallway, desperate to tell each other that yes, they would meet again the next Friday.

 _I love you._

 _I'll miss you._

 _I love you._

They stepped out and parted ways, both with a heavy heart.

And that was how it went.

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

A month or so passed by, Lukas didn't really know, and each Friday had resulted in a new outcome. There were a few times when Maren had come very battered and bruised, but the look on her face when she saw Lukas was enough to make the both of them forget about the circumstances for a few hours—or at least, try to. Lukas' kisses on those days had been directed on the marks on her skin, brushing each and every one with a delicate touch.

It was becoming harder and harder for them to say goodbye for the week, as Lukas knew that Maren was returning to a hostile home, and he had the awful feeling that Hexley raped her every time she came home. If that was the case, Maren hadn't said a word. But Lukas couldn't shake the feeling off, and he hated himself for not being able to do anything about it all.

During that time, they had been exchanging various letters with Ludwig. He had, of course, been very surprised at Maren's news—as had Gilbert when Ludwig had told him about it—but had been astonishingly accommodating over it. Maren had been very grateful for this occurrence, and Lukas had found himself feeling happier whenever he presented Maren with a new letter to her from Ludwig or Gilbert.

It was one Friday in May that Lukas was met with a surprise, from his mother of all people. He was on his way out to meet with Maren when he was stopped by his mother in the hallway.

'Lukas! Can I have a quick word?'

'I'm just on my way out—'

'It'll only take a minute!' She looked at him seriously, and Lukas wondered what was going on. 'I need you back by five today. We're hosting a dinner, and I need you to be here.'

Lukas nodded in acknowledgement. 'Who's coming?'

At the expression his mother sent his way, Lukas couldn't help but get a little anxious. 'Lady Johnson is coming, as is Lord Pratter… and I've invited the Hexleys.'

Lukas merely stared at her. 'You what?'

'And I've insisted that Lady Hexley attends,' Lady Bondevik went on, ignoring Lukas completely. 'Poor girl needs to get out of the house more—and thank goodness the mother is out of town. So it'll just be Lord Hexley and his unfortunate wife.'

His eyes going round from what he had just been told, Lukas became momentarily speechless. Then all he could say was, 'Mother, what are you planning?'

She pouted and shook her head, denying any possibility of scheming something in a loud voice. Lukas sighed in resignation, nodded again and farewelled his mother, rushing off to meet with Maren. He ignored her persistent question of, 'Where are you going every Friday at this time, Lukas?' as he usually did, and set off down the pebbled path.

All the way to Maren's cottage, Lukas thought about his mother's motives of inviting the Hexleys. He couldn't come to a concrete conclusion, but he knew that this was going to be a very interesting evening indeed.

He was a few minutes late, and when Lukas tried the door, he found it unlocked and that Maren was already inside, sitting on the bed and playing with her fingers.

'Maren, I'm sorry I'm late.' He saw her look up at him and smile, and he bent over to kiss her gently on the forehead before sitting down next to her. 'My mother wanted a word before I left.'

'Don't fret about it,' Maren told him, kissing his lips once he had made himself comfortable. 'As long as you're here now.'

Resuming their usual positions—Lukas on his back and Maren on her side, curled into him—they asked each other how their week was. Lukas told Maren of his rather boring situation involving the running of the estate, as his father wanted him to have some experience before actually having the estate as his own one day. Maren laughed at the contemptuous expression he had on his face throughout his explanation, and she had poked his side teasingly as she crowed about him becoming an old man, for only an old man ran an estate on his own. He sent her a blank expression as a response.

Maren then told Lukas about how mundane her week had been, except for the extraordinary opportunity she had gotten when Hexley had gone out the previous evening and the nurse had been nowhere to be seen. Maren had gone into the nursery, managing to see Emil for the first time in several weeks.

'He's getting bigger,' she said to Lukas softly. 'He was much smaller the last time I saw him, with less hair too! He's getting more beautiful every time I see him…' Her voice grew excited as she then went on to exclaim, 'He's getting freckles too, would you believe! There were some little ones on his nose! He's got more of me than his father, thank god for that.'

Lukas smiled fondly at the thought, grateful that Maren had been able to see her son. Then he was startled when she suddenly let out an, 'Oh!' before going on to say, 'I forgot to tell you. I have some news.'

He raised an eyebrow when Maren sat up and looked down at him excitedly. She bounced in her spot several times before breathing in deeply and letting it out.

'I got a letter from Berwald. He arrived home yesterday!' She giggled delightedly and grasped Lukas' hands. 'He's safe and sound, judging by his letter, and he knows about my predicament. Nothing he can do, but he's going to come and visit me and keep an eye on things!'

At that, Lukas smiled, genuinely relieved. _Oh… thank god for that._

'That's wonderful news, darling. I hope he can do what I can't.'

Maren looked down at him sadly and ran a hand through his hair. 'Lukas, you are doing more than you think. You're helping me keep my sanity, and to be fair, I would ask you to come and visit, but that would be incredibly suspicious. At least with Berwald, there is a direct bloodline and they won't be as suspicious of him as they would be with you.'

His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of Maren's long fingers carding through his hair and he sighed softly. He responded with, 'That seems fair. I just feel guilty… guilty that I can't do more.'

As soon as the words left his mouth, Maren shut him up with a firm kiss on his lips, making his eyes blow open in surprise.

'Shut up, Bondevik. You're doing more than enough,' Maren told him seriously, frowning. Then she paused for a moment, before her eyes grew wide in a kind of realisation. She then spluttered out, 'My god, I forgot your name was Bondevik. We've been invited to dinner at your manor!'

'Yes… That's what my mother was telling me before I came.' Lukas sat up and took Maren's hands in his, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on the backs of them. 'We have to pretend not to know each other, otherwise Hexley will be onto us and it'll all be over. We can't let that happen.'

It killed Lukas to say that, but it was true. If they so much as made any hint of knowing each other in front of either Lukas' parents or Hexley, they were done for. They had to keep this a secret for as long as they possibly could. Lukas feared to think what would happen if anyone found out about them.

'No…' Maren agreed, then wrinkled her nose. 'To be honest, I'm a little confused as to why we've been invited. We hardly know each other—' She let out a giggle and beamed at Lukas. '—at least, not that they know of.'

Lukas grinned at that, kissed her smiling mouth and muttered, 'This is going to be one strange yet interesting dinner.'

 **.**

It was seven o'clock when the last guest arrived to Björnstad House.

Lord Pratter—a tall and round, bearded fellow, on the other end of fifty—ambled in, apologising for his lateness and greeting the Bondeviks with handshakes and a kiss on Lukas' mother's cheek. He then greeted Lady Johnson, a thin, wiry young woman on the cusp of thirty, followed by the Hexleys. Watching him kiss the back of Maren's hand in politeness, Lukas became inwardly jealous of him.

The moment Maren had come with Hexley, Lukas had had to pretend that he had never met her, as they had discussed earlier that afternoon. It had been very tempting on his behalf to whisk her away to an abandoned part of the house and keep her there, away from harm and away from Hexley, to kiss her and hold her and declare her as the love of his life. But he couldn't do that, so all he had done was greet her as formally as one could be, with a delicate shake of her hand and a bow of his head. The smile on her face at the action had made it all a little bit better, but the sourness of the situation returned when Hexley had come into view.

At first glance, Hexley even _looked_ like a horrible person. His expression was fixed in a perpetual scowl, his face pinched as if he had swallowed three lemons in one sitting. His sleek black hair was combed back, showing off his high, creased forehead. Hexley looked like an old man in a young man's body, and a very angry one at that. His bitter look had only softened for a total of two seconds when he had shaken Lukas' hand in greeting, his steely eyes crinkled in a forced smile. Lukas had his own lemony smile, and he had been very tempted to break Hexley's fingers in the handshake. Once Hexley had gotten out of sight, Lukas had wiped his hand on his trousers in distaste, an action that hadn't gone unnoticed by Maren. She had fought a smile, but the corners of her mouth had risen up slightly.

Small talk had ensued once more after Lord Pratter had assimilated himself, conversations surrounding the latest news of the society, what was happening in town, and did you hear about that scandal between Lord Ashton and his wife's lady's maid? Lukas had to bite his cheek several times in order not to scream. He hated small talk with a burning passion. He also hated formalities such as these, but he had to keep up appearances if he didn't want to be on the receiving end of his mother's glare.

His saviour came in the form of Baxter, who announced dinner with a polite bow. Everyone entered the dining room, and Lukas took in the gleaming crockery, aided by the huge, white chandelier that hung above the table. They took their seats, and Lukas was pleased to find that he was sitting opposite Maren—but that pleasantness formed into disgust when Hexley hailed the seat right next to him. Lord Pratter took the seat next to Maren, the one between her and Lord Bondevik, flashing her a charming smile; Lukas had to bite his tongue in order not to spew out jealous remarks.

 _Get a hold of yourself, Lukas. You're not the jealous type. Grow up!_

As the food was being served, idle chitchat ensued, and Lukas tried to smile as Lord Pratter dominated half the conversation. He commented on how much Lukas had grown since he had seen him last, which had been before the war had begun. Lord Pratter was an old friend of Lord Bondevik's, having been friends in their youth and later comrades in the Boer War. Lukas actually liked Lord Pratter very much, and viewed him as a distant uncle of sorts. They caught up as the guests started to eat, Lukas nearly choking on his food when Lord Pratter asked him if he was planning on, 'Picking up a bird anytime soon? You're a strapping, young man, Lukas!'

He watched as Maren stifled a laugh behind her fingers at his flustered state. Lukas couldn't get angry because of it, and he answered with a smooth, 'When I find the right one, Charles, I will let you know.'

The meal went by with no difficulties. There was a lot of chatter, something that Lukas wasn't used to. Dinners had usually been quiet affairs, even with guests, but Lukas was secretly pleased with the noise. Every so often he would glance at Maren, just to see how she was. She appeared happy, talking away with the boisterous man that was Lord Pratter sitting next to her. Whenever she laughed at, no doubt, one of his jokes, her laughter was music to Lukas' ears. He was glad she was enjoying herself, even if it was only for a short while.

Everyone was having a good time—even Hexley, surprisingly, for his sour façade had formed into something close to impressed—and Lukas was glad of that fact. But his gladness wouldn't last very long. About halfway through the main course, things were going to explode—and it all started with a simple question aimed at Lady Johnson.

'Margaret, my dear,' Lady Bondevik asked her, 'how is your women's movement coming along?'

Lady Johnson's face lit up at the question. Lukas had learnt that she was a regular visitor of his mother's during the war when he had run away, and she had provided Lady Bondevik with all the emotional support she had needed. Lukas was awaiting the long, passionate lecture of his tactless departure, of which he was shocked hadn't occurred yet. But at his mother's question, Lukas was curious as to how this was going to play out. He had briefly heard of a women's movement occurring back home while he was on the front, as his superiors talked about it every now and then. He hadn't known of the details surrounding the whole thing, let alone what was happening and how it had started. But he listened intently as Lady Johnson answered.

'Oh, Myra… it's coming along swimmingly!' She grinned broadly and Lukas couldn't help but share her enthusiasm. 'I have a feeling that if things go well, we'll have the vote in no time!'

Lukas cleared his throat. 'What is it you do?' he queried politely, genuinely interested in what she had to say. 'I'm afraid I am a bit behind on the times… I have some catching up to do.'

'Oh—we're a suffragette movement, Mister Bondevik. We're fighting for the equality of the sexes, and for us women to be allowed to vote!'

 _I see…_ Lukas thought. _Well, I don't see why that's such an issue. Let the women do what they like. They helped us more than enough during the war…_

He saw Lady Johnson give him a strange look, and for a moment he thought he had spoken aloud. But he relaxed a little bit when she said musingly, 'You're rather young, Mister Bondevik, not to mention intelligent. How do you not know about this?'

'I've been… away,' he muttered, biting his tongue before the words 'at war' came out. While he appreciated Lady Johnson's obvious attempt at discretion—because of course she knew that he hadn't been around, and where else could he have been these long, four years?—he did not really want to delve into discussion about it.

Strangely, it was Hexley who came to his rescue… but only temporarily.

'Quite frankly, Lady Johnson,' he began, his pompous voice loud in the room, 'I believe this "women are equal" business is nonsense.' He snorted as he went to take a sip of his wine. 'Women have a duty in the home, not in the workforce!'

Lady Johnson was quick to follow. 'I have to disagree, Lord Hexley,' she rebutted indignantly. 'Women are a power force in this day and age, I assure you! We are no longer the dames and passive young girls from the past! We're here to be amongst men, because we are worthy of being amongst men. If it weren't for us during the war—'

Hexley cut her off with a harsh laugh; Lukas found himself resisting the urge to break his nose. 'Women did _nothing_ during the war! You all sat around, pretending you were helping—but in actual fact, you barely made a dent in the scheme of things! You can't fight, you can't make decisions about war strategies—you can't make a _difference_ on the _front line_. A woman is to remain at home, as I've said, where she belongs.'

Pausing momentarily, he shook his head, as if bewildered at the fact that he had to explain these very important and basic facts to these people. Lukas risked looking at Maren then, and he saw her looking terribly embarrassed and on the verge of saying something to her husband. But he started talking again as she opened her mouth to speak.

'I swear,' Hexley muttered, his tone mocking and cruel, 'all the good you women did during the war was give yourselves up to the soldiers with your legs open like the whores you are.'

The reaction to his statement was instantaneous: the Lord and Lady Bondevik stared at Hexley in horror, Lord Pratter had gone red in the face, growling something fierce, Maren's jaw had slackened in shock, disbelief painting her face, and Lady Johnson managed to let out an angry, 'Now look here, you despicable man—' before Lukas' fist came hurling down onto the table. At that, everyone's shocked expressions turned to him—Hexley looked over himself, mild surprise taking over his features. As Hexley had spoken, Lukas thought he could contain his bubbling anger, to keep his stoic façade present. But that last statement had been the final blow. This man was just _too_ much, and too cruel. Lukas had hated him before, what with everything he had done to Maren, but now Lukas _loathed_ him.

It took a lot for Lukas to loathe someone. He couldn't believe he was showcasing his rage, but Hexley was the type of person that made him feel murderous. To think he had no idea… How could he even discuss a topic he had no knowledge of? Lukas didn't realise he had had this much passion regarding the current topic, but as his mind dashed with images and memories of the war, with the people he had come to know, who had helped him survive… how could he not? Especially when Hexley was telling such a blatant lie?

'Take that back,' he growled out. At Hexley's, 'What?' Lukas growled out again, 'I said _take that back._ ' He glared at him, his eyes flashing, and if looks could kill, Hexley would have become dust in milliseconds. 'How dare you?'

Rage frothed in him as Hexley scoffed— _scoffed._ How dare he think he had the audacity—?

'It's the truth.'

'Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought you were,' Lukas muttered, afraid that if he raised his voice, there would no longer be a roof over their heads. His other hand curled against his thigh. 'You know _nothing_. Women played a huge role during the war. Judging by your opinion, I have to ask: did you even fight?'

Hexley's nostrils flared and he stared Lukas down. Lukas was awfully reminded of Hexley's huge stature, how he was taller than both him and Maren, about how he could easily pummel Lukas into the ground—but Lukas found himself not being intimidated by his physique at all. He was far too angry to care about anything than giving this man a hell of a talking to.

'Are you calling me a coward?' Hexley spat.

'I'm calling you a liar,' Lukas spat back. He heard his mother hissing out his name in warning, but Lukas didn't take heed to it. Not this time. 'You have _no_ idea. Women sacrificed their lives in order to make the war successful, not just men!'

'Now _you're_ the liar,' Hexley retorted. 'I have proof that women did nothing. They literally sat around the house, whining about the lost boys and making a huge deal over rationing!'

When the words settled in the air, Lukas let out a satisfied sigh. 'So you didn't fight.'

Hexley stood up from his seat and Lukas followed his lead, not once removing his gaze from Hexley's face. He heard chair legs scraping the floor as the other people in the room stood up as well, and Lukas knew that Maren had gotten to her feet and was watching the two men in fear. Lukas knew his parents were staring at their son in shock, unable to believe that their soft-spoken boy was getting personal and openly aggressive with another person. They spluttered at the men to stop, and the footmen and Baxter were torn between stepping in and doing something or keeping at bay.

'I DID FIGHT!' Hexley's entire face had gone beetroot in unwavering pride, and he hollered so much that the chandelier tinkled delicately as it shuddered from the loudness. 'I SERVED FOR THIS COUNTRY, FOR THE KING AND FOR OUR FUTURE! _HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME?'_

'I dare question you because if you had really fought, you would have known about the sacrifices women made on the _front line_ , a place you clearly weren't in.' Lukas glowered at Hexley from the top of his nose as he tilted his head back. He couldn't stop the words as they cut past his lips in utter contempt, 'I bet you were in some chateau in Paris, pouring over maps, deciding where to send us troops—your pawns—to be slaughtered next.'

'Lukas, enough!' Lady Bondevik cried out.

But Lukas was nowhere _near_ done. His blood rushed in his ears, and the argument built on his tongue to the point where he could do nothing but let it out, let it fill the ears of those listening. He would not hold back. Not this time.

'You think women did nothing?' Lukas' voice was soft, his tone short and unlike Hexley's overly confident one. 'Well, let me tell you something, _Hexley_. None of us soldiers, none of us in this very room, would be alive if it weren't for the things women did. We would have lost terribly on the front if those women in the factories weren't making the weapons we needed to survive. Oh yes, we knew about that,' he added matter-of-factly when Hexley looked at him strangely. 'As for the front…'

Lukas swallowed heavily. Since he had returned from France, since he had stepped off that train in London, since he had seen Maren for the first time in three years… Lukas had pushed the war into the back of his mind. He didn't want to discuss it with anyone until he was ready, but even then… he wasn't sure if he wanted to discuss it at all. He hadn't wanted to delve into the war, let alone at this dinner, but it appeared that he had to. Lukas didn't know how to get the information otherwise into the thick head that belonged to Hexley. He couldn't do anything to help his beloved's situation with Hexley, but the least he could do was to teach him a lesson, because after all…

Lukas was a master with words.

His eyes didn't leave Hexley's as he told him, 'I personally wouldn't be here, standing in front of you, telling you all of this with my own mouth and my own tongue if there were no women on the front line. I would have died once in 1918, once in 1917 and twice in 1916.'

Lady Bondevik let out a shaky gasp and Lord Bondevik whispered out, 'Good God.' Silence filled the room, enveloping the walls and the corners as Lukas' statement hung in the air. He quickly glanced at them all, and he felt his heart shred into pieces at the expression of pure horror that was on Maren's face. Her eyes were round like the dinner plates that were on the table, saying to him, _no… no, you're lying._ Lukas didn't have time to tell her otherwise, so he turned back to Hexley and let the tower of words tumble out of his mouth, washing over him and—as consequence—everyone else.

'It was a woman—a nurse, not a doctor—who stitched me up after a German ran me through with his bayonet,' he whispered, gauging the perturbed expression that was slowly moulding Hexley's features. 'It was a woman who held my hand, in the hospital, after I watched my entire battalion get blown to pieces during a surprise attack—of which I was the only survivor—who helped me get through the ceaseless nightmares I suffered for _three months_. It was an entire group of nurses who sat by the injured soldiers, day after day, night after night, making sure they either recovered fully, recovered to the point where they could be sent home or helped them die peacefully. It was an entire hospital—doctors, soldiers, but mostly _nurses_ , young women who had sacrificed their innocence in order to help those in need—who were killed when a rogue bomb landed on top of them all, which I could have been in if one of the nurses hadn't helped me limp my way out of the hospital when the whistles went off. It was women who drove to and from the front lines and the hospitals, who helped the wounded, who brought them back to life.'

Lukas breathed in deeply. His mind threw him back to the Somme, back to when Maren had gotten shot saving his life, back to when she had nursed him back to health during that awful sickness. He let out the breath he was holding and said shakily, cursing himself inwardly for not hiding his emotions better, 'It was a woman who nursed me back to health when a huge wave of sickness took over our trench at the start of 1916. It was a woman pushed me out of the way and took the bullet that was meant for me when a German had snuck into our trench… I could have become one of the numbers of the dead at the Somme if it weren't for her.'

Hexley frowned deeply at that, his appalled expression vanishing. 'Don't be ridiculous, there were no women at the Somme.'

'Oh? _Prove it,'_ Lukas hissed through his teeth. When Hexley didn't reply, he continued with, 'So, don't you _dare_ tell me that women didn't do anything during the war. They were strong, they were fearless and they sacrificed themselves as much as we men did. Now apologise.'

'Excuse me?'

'I said apologise, you bastard.'

There was a pregnant pause as Lukas' story, his huge rant, was processed by everyone in the room. No one talked, no one moved. Lukas didn't look away from Hexley and Hexley didn't look away from Lukas. Then Hexley let out an aggravated, 'Tsk,' and turned to Lady Johnson, who had become teary-eyed throughout the whole ordeal.

'I apologise for my words, Lady Johnson.'

It was clear that his words weren't sincere, but nobody cared about that. Lady Johnson merely bowed her head in acknowledgement of the apology before glancing at Lukas. She moved to sit down, and everyone began following suit. But before they sat down, Lukas grabbed Hexley's arm and told him firmly, 'You insult women in front of me again, you degrade them, you _hurt_ them… I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never opened your damn mouth. Do I make myself clear?'

Hexley was silent, but the glare on his face said it all.

They sat down and Lukas turned to face Lady Johnson fully. 'I apologise for the manner in which I just spoke,' he said softly. 'However… I would like to make clear that if you are in need of any assistance or wish for more members for your movement, then consider me a member from this day forward.'

Lady Johnson's eyebrows shot into her hairline. Then she smiled. 'Would you really? That's very noble of you.'

'I'm doing what needs to be done.' Lukas smiled gently back at her. 'Clearly more people need to be informed that women are definitely _not_ a weak sex. This is only the beginning.'

The topic wasn't brought up again after that, and conversation picked up once more. Lord Pratter leant forward and whispered, 'Well said, my boy. Teach that man some common decency.'

But when Lukas looked at Maren, his heart sunk at the grave expression that encompassed her face. Their eyes met briefly and Lukas saw that she was on the verge of tears. Now he had really done it. He had wanted to avoid telling her in particular the details of the war, as to not upset her or bring back horrible memories for either of them.

He was afraid he had gone and done just that.

 **.**

The rest of the dinner went by with no other interruptions. Hexley kept his mouth shut and glowered at his food. It appeared he was anything but pleased by what Lukas had said to him, and for humiliating him like that in front of everyone. Lukas, himself, was feeling rather proud of his achievement—but he was not liking the look on Maren's face _at all._

Once dinner was over, they all made their way into the drawing room, where more alcohol was served and more conversation arose. The ladies huddled in one corner, about to play a game of bridge, while the men—with a sulking Hexley amongst them—were making small talk. Lukas kept his eyes away from Hexley and, instead, attempted to answer Lord Pratter's invigorating questions about his future running of the estate. He took several sips of cognac to prepare himself for them.

It was about twenty minutes into the game of bridge that Lady Bondevik let out an exclamation of, 'Oh! I almost forgot!' successfully drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

She turned to the men, smiling hugely. 'Lukas, darling, I promised Lady Hexley that you would take her on a tour of the house. Would you be a dear? It's tradition, after all.'

Lukas couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps it had been too long since he had done it, but Lukas found himself feeling rather excited at the thought rather than dread. In the past, his mother had always made him take the "new ladies" of the manor—namely every time a new woman came to visit, Lukas would show them around—as it was a tradition in the Bondevik family that had lasted generations. But the fact that he would be by himself, with _Maren_ of all people, made him giddy inside.

Not that he dared show that.

He glanced at Maren.

'My Lady?'

He knew that she would accept as soon as she had put her cards down on the table and smiled softly. It didn't quite reach her eyes as it usually did, and there was a hint of something that flashed across them for a moment before it disappeared.

'I would love to, Mister Bondevik—if it is not too much trouble.'

Setting his empty cognac glass on the mantelpiece, Lukas managed to catch the disapproving look on Hexley's face, but he heard his father start to explain what was happening as Lukas walked up to Maren. She had put on a pair of long, black, silken gloves as he reached her, and he held out his elbow for her to take.

'Shall we?'

Maren took it—delicately, Lukas noticed—and they left the room. Leading her out of the house, Lukas told her briefly that he was taking her into the garden as their starting point; he had always started there in the past, then had worked his way back into the house itself. Maren gave him a mere nod as a response.

When they reached the outskirts of the garden—and thank goodness the night was calm and not too cold—Lukas felt Maren slip away and he turned to stare at her in confusion. She was hesitating, pulling at her gloves and gazing off to the side. Luka felt a rock form in his stomach in fear that he had really upset her with what had happened at dinner. The last thing he had wanted to do was to make a scene, but Lukas couldn't bear the sound of Hexley's arrogant voice, nor could he bear the ignorance he possessed.

It was a full minute before she spoke.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

Lukas blinked at her. 'Tell you…?'

He shrunk at the glare she sent him. 'About what had happened, on the front.' She crossed her arms and tried to raise an eyebrow. 'You've been silent about it since you got back, and then you suddenly tell everyone?'

'I didn't tell everyone, Maren,' Lukas reasoned. 'I only told them part of the story.' He let out a sigh, then whispered, 'I didn't want to tell you because… well, we've both suffered in our own ways on the front, and I didn't want any old… bad memories to resurface.'

He looked her dead in the eye as he brushed a finger down the length of her jaw. 'I was trying to protect you a little bit…'

Maren's expression softened and she uncrossed her arms. As his hand went back to his side, Maren chose then to move closer to him and slide her hands into his. Her voice was strong as she told him, 'Don't. I am here to listen to you as much as you're here to listen to me. As you said, we both suffered the war, you more so than me…

'But I _understand_ , Lukas. I _know_... unlike them,' she told him firmly, determined to get the idea into his head. Lukas felt the shudder that rocked through her when she squeezed his hands. 'But Lukas… a bayonet? How did you not die? How did it not ruin you?'

Lukas sent her a small smile. 'A woman saved me.'

She threw him a look, and he swallowed. _Okay… no more attempts at light-hearted humour. Jesus, Lukas._

'The soldier didn't make it as deep as he wanted,' he said to her truthfully. 'It merely scratched me. It was deep enough for it to need stitches, but not deep enough for it to kill me, or ruin anything on the inside.'

Maren breathed in. 'Right…' She then frowned in concern and whispered, 'Where?'

Lukas' breath hitched. Though he felt vulnerable at the thought of exposing himself to her, Lukas wordlessly guided a hand that Maren held and traced the scar he had through his shirt with her fingers. He started from his hip and went to where it ended on the opposite rib, and as he did so, he watched Maren's expression. It shifted from intrigued, puzzled, and then saddened by the time they reached the end.

She grimaced. 'You lucky bastard.'

Lukas couldn't help but chuckle. 'I had my good luck charm, remember? She saved me when no one else could.'

Trying hard to fight a smile, Maren stared at Lukas in false anger before she failed and laughed softly. She shook her head, then grabbed Lukas' elbow once more. 'Alright, I'll let you off with that one—but next week, you're going to tell me what you can, yes? Don't hide from me anymore…'

Promising that he would, Lukas smiled delicately at her and held out an arm towards the garden. At her excited grin, he started to guide her around the grounds, observing in fascination at the joyful look Maren had when her eyes landed on every crevice of the garden. She was mesmerised, and she told him that she had always wanted to have her own garden. 'I'd fill it with all kinds of flowers and plants—I might steal some of yours to get me started!'

They continued their journey through the grounds and house of Björnstad House, and Lukas was delighted that he got to spend more time and some privacy with Maren. It appeared she did too, as she would give him a large smile every now and then, ones that lit up her whole face and that made her skin glow. Lukas fell more in love with her that night, if such a thing was even possible.

He took her everywhere: down the corridors, into the studies and at the doors of the bedrooms, down towards the servants' quarters and beyond that to the stables. He explained all the paintings and relics that decorated the house, and Maren listened intently to the information he gave her. Lukas left the library until last, and he became a little bashful when he told her of his childhood in there. Maren had found the whole thing very cute, and she was fascinated by the endless shelves packed with books. Lukas took her to his favourite corner, where the novels of his youth sat, and watched as she took in the array of titles on the spines.

'Look at you, you romantic,' she laughed, pointing to his collection of Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters. 'So was _Heart of Darkness_ just a mirage?'

'No, I enjoy that book as well,' he said seriously, only to pause when Maren laughed behind her hand. 'What?'

'That was a joke, Lukas, darling,' she told him, grinning at the pink that was crossing his cheekbones. 'It's sweet. I just never thought a man would be interested in romance, that's all. But I suppose you're a great exception.'

'What on earth is that supposed to mean?'

He never got an answer, just a furtive glance and a squeeze of the hand.

When Lukas had shown Maren everything there was to see, he took her back down into the main hallway. He directed her into a little corner by the large staircase—away from prying eyes—for a rest before they returned to the drawing room. Lukas wanted to be alone with her just for a while longer. He wouldn't be seeing Maren again until the next week, so the more time he got to spend with her now, the better.

'Thank you for the wonderful tour,' Maren gushed, grinning hugely. 'It's such a nice house… far more welcoming than Hexley's manor, if I do say so myself.'

'I'm glad you approve,' Lukas replied. 'And you're welcome here anytime.'

They both knew that it wouldn't be as simple as that, but Lukas wanted to make it known that yes, Maren _was_ welcome to Björnstad House at any time. Whenever she wanted, or needed to. Lukas wasn't going to be one to send her away.

They fell into a momentary peace. It was then that Lukas had a very strong urge to hold her, kiss her, and show his love for her…

So he did.

Cupping her cheeks in his palms, Lukas leant forward and kissed her deeply. But she pulled away quickly, eyes wide.

'Lukas, we'll get caught!' she whispered out harshly.

'Not if we're quiet,' he whispered back, claiming her lips once again.

Maren didn't resist that time, and she gasped into Lukas' mouth as their kiss became very heated _very_ quickly. Her fingers traced Lukas' jawline and his neck, careful not to go through his immaculate hair, and he resisted the urge to release Maren's hair from its up-do and card his digits through it, to tug it and smooth it back. Instead, he pressed her against the wall, his hands travelling to her waist and stroking her sides. He felt her arms wound around his neck, and their passionate kiss turned into something a little rougher than their usual calm and deep exchanges.

Desire flourished in Lukas' gut, and Maren's smell, her presence, her lips on his, overwhelmed him. Her touches sent fire coursing through him, the pads of her fingers sparking heat on his skin. He shuddered at her sharp inhale when he bit her bottom lip, and Lukas thrived on the soft whimpers from deep in her throat when he kissed—a brush of his mouth—the delicate skin of her neck. Maren's breath grazed his ear; she held him against her tightly, her hands resting at the nape of Lukas' neck.

She was intoxicating. It took all of the force within him to pull away, and when he did, his eyes landed on her flushed, pleasured face. God, did he want to see more of it. He wanted her in his life so, _so_ badly. He wanted their moment to last forever, wanted her presence in that house to be permanent, wanted her to be with _him_ instead of having to return home with Hexley. Lukas was alarmed at just how much Maren dominated his thoughts and heart.

But that was love, wasn't it?

He moved towards her ear. 'I love you.' He nibbled it gently. 'I need you. God, I need you.'

Maren repeated the same words to him once their foreheads came to a rest against each other, and her palms held his face. He knew her words were genuine, and that alone made delicious butterflies erupt in his stomach.

She kissed him softly then, so unlike their frenzied one, and said, 'I hate to say this but… we should get back, before they get suspicious.'

As much as Lukas didn't like the fact, he nodded in agreement. His hands gripped her hips lightly before removing himself from her completely. Maren then asked him where the bathroom was, to which Lukas told her where and that he would meet her in front of the drawing room door once she was done. She nodded, kissed him again and started going up the stairs. As he watched her go, Lukas suddenly had a thought, one that he needed to voice.

'Maren?'

Maren spun around to look down at him from the middle of the staircase and Lukas lost himself in how _stunning_ she looked. She had chosen to wear a dark blue, silken dress that evening: it was sleeveless and reached the tops of her knees. Upon studying the bare skin of her upper arms, Lukas was pleased to see them free of bruises and finger marks. She looked wonderful in blue, he thought, and he zeroed in then on the dark lipstick Maren had on her mouth. The colour was enticing, and Lukas' mind pondered on the thought as to what Maren would look like with a dark red dress on, one to match the colour on her mouth. Her hair glowed golden under the light of the huge chandelier in the hall and was curled into an elegant bun—still unlike the short hair he had grown to love, but gorgeous nonetheless.

She was perfect. Her everything was perfect.

Lukas licked his lips and his tone was awestruck as he whispered, 'I didn't get to tell you this before but… you look _so beautiful_.'

Crimson spread across Maren's nose, pulling a fond smile from Lukas' lips. 'Oh, shut up, Bondevik.' But the grin on her face removed any real spite. She blew him a kiss and hurried up the rest of the stairs. Lukas let out a content sigh, his chest exploding with giddy feelings at the fact that he had gotten to spend the evening with his beloved Maren.

Nothing could burst his happy little bubble as he started to make his own way up the stairs in order to meet Maren by the drawing room. Nothing except the tap on his shoulder that made his skin crawl and his blood freeze.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

Lukas didn't dare move at first. His heart was in his throat and he suddenly forgot how to breathe. _Please… please, don't be Hexley_ , was his only thought as he started to slowly, carefully, turn around, swallowing heavily as he did so. His body was tense, and it visibly loosened at the sight of a familiar, welcoming face. Mousey brown hair, steely eyes, a grey dress and white apron—the young face of Sally Griffiths stared at him and he let out a shaky breath in relief.

'Sally…' He came back down the few steps towards her and whisked her to the same corner where he had just been with Maren. 'You scared the hell out of me…' He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, whispering, 'I thought you were Hexley.'

'Thank god I wasn't,' Sally replied, and Lukas saw her frowning disapprovingly. 'But I could have been, and then you would have been in huge trouble.'

Lukas paused, gaping at her in confusion. _What does she mean…? Oh._ He let out a sigh.

'You saw us?'

When Sally nodded, panic bubbled in his chest. The fact that Sally had seen him and Maren together—and he assumed that she had seen them kiss—made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. While he did trust Sally to be discreet, Lukas started to wonder if anyone else had seen them while they were touring the house and garden. That thought alone made him want to get Maren back by his side in case Hexley, in particular, _had_ seen them elsewhere, so he wouldn't hurt her when they got home. He didn't want her to go home and be beaten because of him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Sally spoke in an urgent whisper, just in case someone was nearby.

'Lukas… I shouldn't have to tell you this, but you're playing a dangerous game here,' she told him in a strict tone. 'Imagine if Lord Hexley was the one who found you, not me! And don't worry,' she went on to say at the stricken look on Lukas' face, 'he's been talking to your father since you and Lady Hexley left.'

At that, Lukas slumped against the wall and buried his head in his hands. _Thank god… we're still safe…_ Sliding his palms down his face, Lukas gazed at Sally, taking in her raised eyebrow and tight mouth.

'I know I'm playing a dangerous game, but…' He sent her an imploring look. 'I love her, Sally.'

'But she's married!' Sally huffed lightly. 'You haven't known her that long either—'

'I've known and loved her before Hexley put his hands on her!'

Sally's eyes went wide and her mouth opened in shock. It took Lukas a moment to realise what he had said, and once he did, he cursed under his breath. She wasn't supposed to know that.

'W-What… What do you mean by that, Lukas?' Sally breathed. She looked frightened, but curious nonetheless.

Lukas hesitated. How much could he tell her? He would be in terrible trouble if word got out that he was having an affair with Lady Hexley, not to mention the shit Maren would have to face from Hexley if he found out his wife was seeing another man. _Me and my mouth… Since when did I become so careless with my thoughts?_ Staring at Sally, Lukas let out a sigh. She deserved to know the truth. She was his oldest friend, the one he had left behind without so much as a word when he had run away to war. Despite society's views on class, Sally was his close confidant in all areas of his life, and he suddenly felt guilty of his actions from four years ago. No doubt she had felt terribly upset from his unannounced departure, his endless absence that lasted all that time…

He owed her.

He trusted Sally. He always had, and he knew that.

So he told her everything—or at least, most of it. He told her how he had met Maren during the war, dressed up as a man, and how they got to know each other. He told her how he had fallen in love with her as a man and as a woman when he had later found out, and how she had saved his life in the Somme. By the time he had finished explaining, Sally's eyes had gone rounder and her jaw slackened further as Lukas' story was being processed in her brain.

'Good god,' she whispered after a moment's pause. 'What a woman.'

'Yes…' Lukas muttered. 'What a woman, indeed.'

Sally glanced up at the stairs behind Lukas, and Lukas was puzzled over the unidentifiable emotion that crossed over her eyes.

'You know he beats her?' she asked him, her voice quiet.

Lukas scowled. 'Yes… I've seen the bruises… They're horrendous.'

'He's a monster. How dare he hurt such a wholesome, beautiful creature?' Sally sniffed, her expression turning distressed. 'I hardly see her on Fridays anymore… I don't know what to tell your mother!'

Blinking, Lukas let out a short sound of recognition before saying, 'That's because she's with me on Fridays. We have a little hideaway.'

Sally gaped at him, but then laughed and shook her head, her face forming into one of relief. 'Oh, well thank god for that! I thought he had locked her away for good.' She sent him a look. 'You are taking care of her, are you not?'

'Of course.' Lukas grew solemn. 'She's my damsel in shining armour… my great love. I treat her like the queen she is.'

Lukas grew embarrassed at how easily he could say such things, and he turned his head away from Sally's piercing gaze. He heard her laugh, and when he looked at her, Lukas saw her smiling hugely at him. He felt his own mouth lift at the corners at the sight.

Sally breathed through her nose, then said, 'I knew she was in good hands the moment you said that you've been with her, but that has now been—what's the word?—exemplified.' She squeezed Lukas' shoulders, whispering, 'You're a good man, Lukas. I've always known that. Don't change.'

'I won't.' Glancing at the grandfather clock nearby, Lukas told Sally, 'I should head back and meet Maren by the drawing room—and please, Sally, not a word to anyone. _Especially_ Mother—and speaking of, meet me in the library on Fridays after your outings, or ask one of the staff where I am, and I'll tell you how Lady Hexley was, so you have something to tell Mother when she asks.'

Nodding in agreement, Sally grin secretively at him. 'Noted, and you know my skills of discretion, Lukas. Need I remind you of our experiment back in the day?'

Lukas chuckled gently. 'Just reminding you, my little homosexual.'

Sally laughed and Lukas felt himself feeling a little happier—and utterly delighted that he and Maren hadn't been caught by someone like Hexley. 'Take care of yourself, my little bisexual,' Sally rebutted playfully.

'Not so little anymore,' Lukas muttered, remembering with annoyance how Sally was, once upon a time, much taller than him.

Grinning one last time, Sally rushed off with a wave of her hand towards the servant's quarters. Lukas followed her example and ran up the stairs two at a time. Walking briskly, Lukas met a very confused-looking Maren near the drawing room door. At the sight of him, he saw her expression form into one of relief.

'Where have you been?' she said in a low voice, frowning delicately. 'Is everything okay?'

Lukas gazed into her worried eyes for a moment, looked down the corridor left and right before kissing those dark, pretty lips once more. 'Just got caught up with a member of staff,' he told her. 'Everything is fine.'

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Lukas saw that she was going to let him get away with it this time. They kissed briefly once more and Lukas reached for the handle of the drawing room door—however, he was pulled back by Maren, who was fighting a smile.

'Lukas… you can't go in looking like that!' Maren took off one of her gloves, licked her thumb and ran the pad around Lukas' mouth. He blinked at her in shock, alarmed at the sudden wetness, and she smiled at him as she said, 'You've got lipstick all over your mouth, darling.'

He felt his face grow warm, and he averted his eyes from the dancing mirth in Maren's own blue hue. As her thumb continued to wipe away the incriminating evidence of dark red that was on him, occasionally slowing down to brush his lips with a loving touch, Lukas wondered why on earth Sally didn't tell him about it when she saw him. Once Maren was done, Lukas grabbed her arm, kissed the inside of her wrist and lowered both their arms until their fingers were intertwined.

'Thank you, my Lady,' he said to her. 'Do I look presentable?'

Maren grinned triumphantly. 'Yes, you look much better now, Mister Bondevik.'

They squeezed their joined hands together once more before letting go, Maren putting her glove back on and Lukas opening the door. It astounded Lukas as to how quickly they were able to go back to pretending that they were nothing more than acquaintances, and it tore him apart from the inside. The moment they entered, Lukas' mother pounced on Maren, demanding to hear how the tour went, what she thought of the place and if Lukas was nice to her. Lukas went back to his father, Lord Pratter and Hexley, unwillingly joining in with the conversation.

The following hour was spent chatting and drinking, with the occasional cigarette being lit and dragged upon. All throughout that hour, Lukas' lips tingled with the ghost feeling of Maren's lips and thumb, and his heart thundered in his chest so loudly that Lukas wondered if anyone who stood next to him could hear it. He stole the odd glance at his love, fighting the ceaseless urges to press his lips all over her face.

At the end of that hour, the Bondevik's guests started to depart for the evening. Unfortunately, Hexley and Maren were the first to go, as well as Lord Pratter. In the grand hallway near the entrance to the house, Lukas had to violently resist the temptation to kiss Maren goodbye, to gaze into her beautiful face for eternity, to hold her close and run his fingers through her fragrant hair. He, instead, merely grasped her hand lightly, shook it as delicately as he had done earlier in the evening.

'Goodnight, Lady Hexley. I hope your journey home is safe.'

Maren smiled at him. 'Thank you, Mister Bondevik. Thank you for the wonderful evening and for the tour. I hope we can meet again in the future.'

Lukas bowed his head and allowed himself a small smile to be sent her way. Then he turned to Hexley, and the smile vanished in an instant. Upon grasping his hand, it was obvious to Lukas that the very action was an effort for Hexley, as he couldn't wait to let go of him—Lukas himself found it just as much of an effort. The events of dinner were still raw in their minds, and the anger still evident on their faces.

They glared at one another for a few seconds before Hexley grunted out, 'Goodnight, sir.'

Lukas didn't reply.

As Hexley turned away, Lukas caught Maren's eye. They glanced at each other and the message between them was clear. _See you next Friday._ Maren turned to Hexley when he offered his arm to her, not looking back at Lukas as she took it and followed her husband as they left the house. Watching her go, Lukas sighed.

He was pining after, and badly so. He was already anticipating their next meeting, and as he turned to farewell Lord Pratter and thank him for joining them that evening—as a courteous host like himself would naturally do—his mind teemed with Maren.

 **.**

Friday came along once more, and Lukas had taken his usual post. Leaning against the white, picket fence, he twirled a bright, red rose in his fingers. He knew that Maren wouldn't be able to take it home with her, but she could leave it in the house for certain. He wanted to spoil her a little bit, even if it was only a mere flower.

Ever since the dinner, Lukas had thought of nothing else and no one else but Maren. Prior to that point, she had still been in his thoughts, but nothing of this calibre. The thoughts had ranged from the memory of her visit—her presence in the house, the tour of the manor and the garden, the dark blue dress, the dark lipstick, her beauty and the _desire_ he had felt for her in the corner near the stairs—to an impossible future together. The future of what their children would look like, how radiant she would look wearing whatever she wanted and being whoever she wanted to be, being away from that hostile home, how her skin would be unblemished from the bruises and scars, how Lukas would run his lips over that gunshot wound—that wound that had brought them closer together—when they were naked in bed together…

Lukas had even dreamt of their wedding the other night. He had woken up breathless, but with her name on his tongue, the phantom feeling of her mouth on his and the words of, 'I do,' resounding in his ears.

The more time they spent together, the more that time went on, the further Lukas was spiralling into hell—the very hell that plagued his everyday thoughts and dreams. _But is it really hell? It is hell in the sense that it is not reality? Is Maren being in my life a kind of hell?_ He didn't think so, but he did wish for his thoughts were the now and the real.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Lukas brought out his watch; his eyebrows flew into his hairline. It was half-past twelve, and Maren still hadn't arrived, and this both troubled and scared him. She was _never_ late. Lukas looked down both ends of the street, but he couldn't see any approaching figure. Panic coursed through him.

 _What if Hexley has done something to her? What if he's hurt her? What if she's locked away and isn't being let out? What if—_

'Lukas!'

He nearly jumped a foot into the air at his name. Turning around, Lukas saw that the front door to the house was opened a margin, and he could see Maren's face through the crack. He let out a breath of relief and started walking up the path towards the door.

'Maren, you scared me!' he hissed as the door opened wider and as he stepped into the house. He kept the rose behind his back, as a surprise, and shut the door with his foot. His harsh tone was softened by the smile that enveloped his mouth at the sight of his beloved, his former fear dissolving—the thoughts he had been having all week came back full force—and Maren smiled back at him in full. Lukas walked up to her and pressed a soft kiss to her lips in greeting. Then he brought the rose around to the front and whispered at their mouths, 'For you, my darling.'

Pulling away, Maren frowned in confusion before her face lit up as her eyes landed on the rose being presented to her.

'You romantic!' she laughed, taking the flower from him. She brought it up to her nose to smell it and Lukas didn't miss the light blush going across her nose. 'Thank you. I'll put it in a vase right away!'

As they both moved towards the kitchen, Lukas' eyes became hawk-like when he noticed immediately that Maren was limping again. They narrowed when, upon entering the kitchen and as she moved towards the sink, he heard her hiss and visibly wince as she reached up to grab a vase from the open cupboard. He merely watched her as she filled the vase with water, placed the rose into it and put the vase onto the kitchen table. Her mouth was curved at the corners in delight and she looked up at Lukas.

'It's beautiful, Lukas—just like you!' she sang, and Lukas felt his face flush at the comment. Maren giggled, moving around the table in order to kiss his reddened nose.

'Shut up,' he mumbled. 'You're clearly the beautiful one.'

But that only spurred her to kiss absolutely all over his face, landing on his lip as a final, wordless statement. As they parted, Lukas stared at her expectantly. He was awaiting an explanation for her lateness and what Hexley had done to her this time in order to render her pain when she moved. But Maren remained oblivious as she took his hands in hers and started walking backwards towards the bedroom. She kissed his knuckles and rubbed them with her thumbs lovingly, her eyes all the while on him. He gazed back, feeling nothing but fondness and extreme worry. He knew that Hexley had done something to her again, that much was certain, but he was worried as to the extent to which he had hurt her.

It was when they reached the bedroom that Lukas took her in fully. When he did, he slapped himself mentally when he realised, _Oh god… I'm fucking blind._

Perhaps it was due to the better lighting in the bedroom than what had been in the kitchen, but Lukas had only noticed then the amount of make-up Maren had put on that day. What was usually light layering had become a huge abundance—it was to the point that it was _caked_ on her skin. Her lips, for one, were such a bright red—much unlike the dark lipstick she worn the previous week—that Lukas wondered if it was blood instead of lipstick. Her eyes were covered in eyeshadow and the rest of her face covered in so much powder that Maren resembled a hand-painted doll.

Seeing that scared Lukas, and it scared him a lot. This is was new, and it made Lukas' skin crawl and mouth dry.

'Maren?' She hummed in query and grinned delicately. 'He's hurt you again.'

Her eyebrows contracted and she scoffed. Lukas didn't fail to notice how her face fell at the statement, however. 'Don't be ridiculous, Lukas. I'm fine!'

'Then why were you late?' he rebutted, one eyebrow arched.

'Oh, that.' She shrugged. 'We had an argument over something—Berwald, would you believe, but I'll explain in more detail later—and he wouldn't let me leave until I agreed with his opinion. I told him no and left despite his wishes. I'll most likely pay for it later, but for now, I'm happy to live in ignorance and spend my time with you.' She pouted. 'I'm sorry… I didn't mean to make you wait.'

'It's fine.'

It was anything but fine, but Lukas was going to let that one slide for now. Maren was lying... but why she was doing so confused him—and in all honesty, it hurt him a little bit as well. Did Maren really not want Lukas to know the truth? Did she not trust him? All he wanted to do then was coax the truth out of her.

He stared at her steely. 'But I'm no idiot, Maren.'

She sighed irritably and cried, 'Lukas, I told you! I'm fine!'

'Oh?'

Lukas left the room, listening to Maren spluttering in the background as he went towards the bathroom. He had no idea what had overcome him, but he suddenly felt very angry. _I thought we had reached the point where we didn't keep anything from each other. That was the promise, wasn't it, Maren? So why are you hiding from me? Why are you lying? Hexley has hurt you badly this time… so why hide it from me? Are you_ that _ashamed? For god's sake!_ He looked around the bathroom, grabbed what he was looking for and returned to the bedroom. His anger must have shown on his face for Maren's expression had turned nervous.

He held up the washcloth he had taken from the bathroom and muttered, 'So you wouldn't mind if I got all that make-up off your face? It's a bit much, you do realise.'

Lukas' heart stopped for a split second at the panicked look that moulded around Maren's features, but as she shook her head quickly, a dark cloud passed over Lukas' face.

'Lukas, don't… There's no need!'

But Lukas wanted her to be straight with him. He didn't stop as he leapt forward, like an animal, causing the both of them to fall onto the bed. He hovered over her and tried to get past Maren's flailing arms in order to get the washcloth to the excessive amount of make-up on her face. She yelled at him to stop, to get off her, that he's squashing her—Lukas, you're hurting me! Her cries went deaf on his ears, and he got more and more irritated as she fought against him. In a final attempt to get his way, Lukas grabbed her wrists and held them down with one hand as he managed to _finally_ get a decent amount of make-up off her cheek with the other.

He froze at what he saw, and it wasn't just what was behind the make-up that made him freeze.

When whatever demon had possessed him left his mind, Lukas scrambled away from Maren as if she had burned him. His eyes were wide in alarm and his hand covered his mouth as he stared at the bed and at Maren.

 _What have I done?_

He felt sick. As she sat up, Maren's eyes were blown wide and she was gaping at Lukas in a kind of shocked horror. Her hands were clutched against her chest, and she looked _so_ afraid of him that Lukas felt as if his world had fallen apart. He was supposed to _help_ her, to be the better person, a better man… What kind of monster did what he had just done?

'Maren…'

His voice was low, hoarse and guilt-ridden. He dropped the washcloth and moved further away from the bed. He swallowed back his tears, not wanting to let them fall. He couldn't believe what he had just done. If he behaved like that… then he was no better than Hexley.

'Maren… I'm sorry… oh god…'

The situation became even more horrifying as Lukas drank in the spot free of make-up on Maren's cheek; it haunted him. It was dark purple, darker than any of the worst bruises he had seen on her arms… and oh, god, was that scratch on top of it all? Lukas shuddered to think what the rest of her face looked like behind all the powder…

He decided that he didn't want to know. He didn't deserve to know, not after he had treated her like _that._

Lukas watched as Maren got shakily to her feet and made her way over to him slowly. Despite what had just happened, there was a little, sad smile on her face. Why it was there befuddled Lukas, but he found that as she got closer, the more he wanted to move away from her. He was scared that he would hurt her again if she was in close proximity to him. But he found himself unable to move an inch when she reached him.

 _What have I done? Who am I to have done that?_

'It's okay, Lukas…' she whispered.

It was anything but okay, and they both knew that. Lukas stiffened when Maren rubbed his arms and gripped his shoulders. She bit her lip in thought, the last remnants of fear washing off her face as she pondered. She took a deep breath, let it out through her nose and set her eyes on Lukas'.

'I should be honest with you… if I'm not honest with you, then I'm honest to no one else…' she told him. 'So yes, you were right. He hurt me again… badly.'

Lukas swallowed. The guilt came tenfold; Lukas found himself thinking that he was undeserving of the truth. While he had wanted it, the manner he had gone to achieve was unacceptable. He couldn't wrap his head around his own actions. It was as if another man had become him for the moment, had steered him around like a puppet on strings.

He looked everywhere except her eyes as he asked, 'When?'

'Last night.' She sighed. 'I refused to bed him. So he punished me for it. Beat me black and blue, held me down and all… I'd rather not go into details.' She sniffed, and Lukas, upon looking at her properly, gasped softly when she started crying. 'There were so many bruises and cuts that I had to cover them up… I didn't want to worry you.' She let out a half-hearted, humourless laugh, and said, 'I forget how sharp you are. I need to be a little more creative to hide things from you.'

'Don't.' Lukas started to reach a hand towards her cheek, then immediately backtracked, afraid that the demon would come back and hurt her instead of comfort her. 'Don't hide things from me, please… no matter how painful they are to hear. I want to hear them… okay?'

He was tentative in the way he spoke, his voice low and nervous. Lukas was afraid to raise his voice above a mere whisper, in case he scared Maren again. Maren sniffed once more before nodding, and the calm look on her face suggested everything other than scared. But that didn't stop Lukas' heart clenching behind his ribcage in horror at himself.

He then asked her where Hexley had hurt her, and his heart jumped when Maren took his hand. She trailed his fingers over her cheekbones, closed her eyes to roam them over her eyes, then down to her bottom lip where Lukas felt a little bump—no doubt a split lip—and then further down… over her collarbones, her ribs, down to her upper thigh… By the time she was finished, Lukas had no control over his emotions. From his actions to Hexley's, to the anger he felt at himself and at Hexley, he couldn't help the tears that spilled over and streaked his cheeks. Upon seeing them, Maren wiped them away, kissing his eyelids and whispering, 'Don't cry… please, don't…'

The tension between them thickened, both too on edge. Lukas apologised for his behaviour once more, promising in a broken voice that he would never do such a thing again. He was surprised when she forgave him, and she explained that she knew that he meant his apology and that he was regretful of his actions. She then excused herself in order to fix her make-up and while she did, Lukas tried to get himself back together. He kicked the washcloth away from himself, hiding it underneath the chest of drawers at the edge of the room.

It would never see the light of day again. Lukas wanted to forget that he had done such things—to his beloved, of all people!

He didn't become aware of the time—or the fact that he had laid down upon the bed—until Maren was climbing in next to his sprawled figure, gently kissing his cheek and pressing herself to his side.

'Penny for your thoughts?' she asked him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking her head under his chin.

Lukas was silent. He saw that the purple had disappeared off of Maren's face, and in a determined move to change the topic away from his actual thoughts, Lukas then uttered, 'You said you had something about your brother?'

'It's a right mess, that's what it is,' she sighed, and at Lukas' curious hum, Maren huffed angrily. 'Poor Berwald… he's in the same position as me. Turns out I wasn't the only "rebel" during the war.' Choosing to look down at her at the same time she chose to look up at him, Lukas was alarmed at the rage that flared in her eyes. 'Berwald has a lover, and our parents, somehow, found out about their relationship. They met during the war, like you and me. So, what did our parents do? They got Berwald married off to some poor woman who I know he will never love how she wants him to love her, and it's awful what they did to his lover…'

'What did they do?'

Maren growled lowly in her throat. 'They reported him for perversion and sodomy, and now he's been sentenced to five years imprisonment in Helsinki.'

Lukas bolted up. _Perversion? Sodomy? Five years?_

'Berwald's homosexual?'

Maren sat up and placed her hands in her lap. 'Yes, he is. He fell in love with a Finnish sniper—Tino I believe his name is—in 1916. Judging by what he has said in his letters, Tino is a very kind man and loves Berwald very much, and Berwald himself is so in love with him… and now they've gone and put him in prison! Berwald's devastated.'

'But they can't do that!' Lukas cried. He was in shock… these things weren't supposed to happen! 'He was a soldier—there's exceptions for soldiers—he did his duty for his country!'

'Ha!' Maren scowled heavily. 'Not if you're a homosexual, Lukas. They don't care if you're a homosexual. So now poor Tino is in prison, Berwald's been married off to a _woman_ and the argument I had with Hexley was over Berwald visiting me. He refuses to have a homosexual step into his home, brother or no brother, and I put my foot down. Berwald is my brother and I have every right to see him—but he won't hear of it.' She let out a short sound. 'It's a mess—a horribly, big mess… so there goes my plan of seeing my brother for the first time since the beginning of the war, and my guardian on the inside…'

Lukas didn't know what to say other than, 'I'm so sorry.' That poor man. He knew exactly what he was going through, and Maren too. This was terrible…

'Yeah… I'm sorry too, but there's nothing much we can do about it, I'm afraid. We're powerless.' She gazed at him deeply. 'Now, didn't you promise me that you were going to do some talking?'

He blinked at her. Truthfully, he had forgotten about his promise to Maren to tell her about the war. But this news about Berwald and Tino had gotten him thinking…

What he said to Maren was, 'In a moment… I need a few minutes,' and she nodded in understanding. They went back to their place on the bed, Maren's ear pressing against his chest and his fingers playing with her hair. As silence took over them once more, Lukas' brain was starting to form ideas…

 **.**

After about five or so minutes, Lukas begun to tell Maren everything. He started from the moment after he had seen her in the hospital to the moment he had stepped off the ship in London earlier that year. He had found the entire thing very difficult to say aloud, especially after he had gone to the effort to keep the memories repressed. Digging them up after several months in full detail was one of the hardest things Lukas had to do. He tried to keep nothing back, to tell her just exactly what had happened—but his voice had given up on him several times throughout the explanation, unable to convey to Maren the full extent of the horror he had seen.

But he tried, and he tried. He told her about the battles, about the failed plans and the deaths he had witnessed, the terror he had gone through night after night, day after day. There were moments where he simply cried into Maren's hair, too afraid to speak and bring up the deadliest memories from the pits of his mind. She listened to his every word, took away the tears with her fingers or lips and shed some of her own as well.

Perhaps the worst thing he had to tell her was what had happened to their little cohort. He asked her if she really wanted to know, but upon her adamant response, Lukas swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Well… none of it is good news, I'm afraid,' he whispered, biting his bottom lip.

'I feared as much,' Maren replied, her voice nervous. He heard her gulp. 'How many survived?'

Lukas glanced down at her. 'Out of the seven of us? Not counting you and including myself, only three.'

Maren gasped softly. 'Oh god… Who? How?'

Lukas screwed his eyes shut. _Don't come back, don't come back, please, don't come back… I don't want to see it again. Please…_

'Remember what I said at the dinner? About the battalion being blown to pieces?' At her nod, Lukas continued with, 'It was a stupid idea in the first place… but who are we to argue with the generals? They wanted our entire battalion to go down into the tunnels near Amiens—this was after the Somme, around the beginning of 1917—to infiltrate the Germans on the other side. It was a mission of espionage, not combat. The aim was to gather information on the German ranks and to see what they were planning next.

'But the Germans knew we were coming. They knew the whole time. They were just waiting for the right moment to strike. Marcus… Marcus was ahead of us all, and he was the first to get shot. The Germans were around the corner of the last tunnel we were supposed to go through. It didn't kill him straightaway, and his last words to us was to run. They shot again and killed him that time…'

He stopped. The memory was rising up and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to scream and cry. That day had been a slaughter. His friends' faces haunted him to that day, and would for the rest of his life, he knew that for certain. He tried to remember the good times, the Christmas of their first station, when Maren was still around as Matthias—but the blood and the death overpowered those thoughts.

Maren stared at him, wide-eyed. She knew that what Lukas was saying was the truth, but Lukas could see that she didn't want to believe it.

'All of us were so shocked that we couldn't move straightaway. It wasn't until the Germans came out and someone from the back started yelling that we started to run. I had to grab Samuel by the hand since he was rooted to the spot. We didn't have time to grieve over Marcus—we had to run.

'Then the grenades were thrown. The first two wiped out the majority of the battalion, save for around four of us. We were running so much that we almost missed the turn to head back to our side. Two more got killed just as Samuel and I turned the corner. Samuel insisted that I go up the ladder first, as he wanted to go and get Marcus before going up. I was yelling at him to forget Marcus, he was dead, but before I could get through to him, he dropped dead in front of me. Had been shot in the back…

'I think that was the most I screamed since the Somme… when you had gotten shot. I found out about twenty minutes later—after the generals pulled me from the ladder and barricaded the manhole—that I was the only survivor of that BEF battalion. It was another ten before I or anyone else realised that I had been injured—nothing severe, but enough to need treatment. It was from that moment on that the nightmares that plagued me for three months began. If it wasn't for that nurse… I don't know where I'd be.

'So that was Marcus and Samuel. I wish I could say that they died peacefully but… at least it was quick. A couple of months later, we were ambushed once more by the Germans—a stray bomb landed on top of us. As a result, Arnaud lost his legs and was sent home once he was considered recovered. He's back home in Paris. I sent him a letter not too long ago, and he's doing well.'

Maren let out a shaky breath and wiped her eyes of tears. 'Good god… poor Marcus… poor Samuel… I hope they're resting in peace now. I'm glad to hear that Arnaud made it out alive.' She frowned. 'But who was the last?'

Lukas blinked some stray tears from his eyes and sniffed softly. 'Halfway through 1918, I got a letter. When I saw the handwriting, I thought, 'Finally, some good news!' Unfortunately, it did not contain good news. It had come from Belgium, and in it was the news of another death. It turned out that the ANZACs had been moving around all over France, but somehow the ANZACs we got to know at our first station had been stationed near Belgium. The letter was Noah telling me about how Jack had died. He had been shot, sent to hospital and three days later, had died from the infection of his gunshot wound. Noah had also told me that he was being sent home back to New Zealand. He arrived two days before I came home to London.

'I prayed every single day that I would survive, that I wouldn't end up like Marcus, or Samuel, or Jack, and I prayed that I would come out in a single piece, not like Arnaud, in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, or like Noah, who can barely walk because some stupid frontline doctor couldn't get the bullet out of his leg. But at the same time… I was scared of surviving, because I knew that I would have to live with the memories forever.'

He glanced at Maren. As he had spoken, it was as if it had been someone else talking, as if his voice had somehow became detached from his body and had gone off of its own accord. The stories didn't sound like his own, sounded too much like a fantasy—but the terrifying thing was that it was all true.

Lukas didn't say anything more, and Maren brought him close to her, her fingers in his hair as he let himself cry. It was the first time since Lukas had cried last, several months in fact, and he felt embarrassed by it. It was the first time, also, since he had lost his composure in front of Maren since that fateful day of 1916.

Maren's voice was gentle as she told him that he would never have to see those things ever again. It was over, she told him. He was home, safe and sound. There was no more war, no more suffering—he was here, and so was she. She thanked him for telling her and kissed his hairline, stroking his fair hair and running her thumb under his eyes, taking the tears with it.

Despite the sadness and grief that plagued him, Lukas was grateful that he had managed to get everything off his chest. He was even more grateful for Maren's presence, her lulling voice and comforting company wonderful to be around. While he had pined and wished for Maren to have been with him on front, at the same time, Lukas was glad that she hadn't had to experience what he had, hadn't had to fight for her survival, or to have watched others drop off like flies. He was glad that she _survived._

Following Lukas' story, a silence fell upon them that lasted the rest of the afternoon. They were content in their comfort with one another, the warmth reassuring and the kisses a hard reminder of the reality they were in. The war was over, and Lukas was safe. No more.

However, Maren's tale of her brother and his lover came back to Lukas full force during their silence. His mind overworked as he concocted a plan in his head, and by the time he had come to a concrete conclusion, Lukas was determined to see it through. _Perhaps this is the key to our happiness… Hopefully it works out!_

Before they parted for the week in the hallway, Lukas asked Maren, 'I have a bit of a strange question but… you wouldn't happen to know the surname of the Tino character you had mentioned? Berwald's lover?'

Maren looked at him in confusion. 'Um… from memory, it was Väinämöinen. Why do you ask?'

'Oh.' He smiled sourly at her. 'It was just that I had met a Finnish soldier while I was in France whose name was also Tino. I just wondered if it was the same person, but no, it isn't.'

It was a lie, of course, but Maren seemed to buy it as she gazed sadly at him. She moved in to kiss him, delicately holding his face. 'I'm sorry you had to go through all of that,' she told him, resting their foreheads together. 'No one should have to suffer through anything of the sort…'

'I'm sorry, too,' said Lukas. He took her hands and interwove their fingers together as he placed a kiss on her jawline. He then settled his head in the crook of her neck, mumbling into it, 'I'm sorry about Berwald.'

He felt rather than heard her scoff. 'Yeah, I am, too. Bloody nuisance… But at least I can keep in touch with him through letters. Good thing we speak another language because the staff at home are incredibly nosy, but they can't stop us from writing to each other or writing in our languages… So it's not all bad, I suppose. But it would be nice to see him at some point, but no, Hexley won't hear of it.'

When she had finished, another idea had planted itself in Lukas' head. 'Perhaps I can be your messenger?'

Maren moved away and stared at him. 'What do you mean by that?'

Lukas blinked at her. 'Well, if I can visit him on an off day, I can talk to him, see how his home life is going, see what he looks like and then report it all back to you.'

At his words, Maren's face lit up like a lamp, and she looked happier than Lukas had seen her be in _years_. 'Would you really? That would be marvellous, Lukas! I'll give you his address—and watch out, he may be a bit mean at first, but he means well. He's a bit like you, actually—strong but silent.'

Raising his eyebrow at her, Lukas grinned. 'Is that your type, then? Strong and silent?'

'Oh, shut up! You know what I mean.'

She got out her notebook and wrote down Berwald's address. Tearing the page out, she handed it to Lukas with a smile. Taking it, Lukas read the address, then frowned in confusion.

'Oxenstierna?' He looked at Maren. 'I thought you were the Køhlers?'

Maren grinned evilly at him. 'Not exactly. It's a long story, but Berwald and I managed to change our surnames. We didn't want to be associated with our family anymore, so we got the documents needed, got our father's signature stamp—because the bastard is too lazy to sign everything by hand so he got a personalised stamp, would you believe?—stamped the needed documents and changed our surnames on our birth certificates. As to why we didn't get the same surnames… well, Berwald has always had a connection to Sweden, since he was born there, but I've always had mine with Denmark. Therefore, Berwald went with Oxenstierna and I went with Køhler.'

Nodding in acknowledgement, and very much impressed by their efforts, Lukas gazed at her. He tried to imagine her with a different surname, and nothing he came up with clicked. Køhler suited her perfectly. But he was curious.

'What was it originally?'

'Sørensen,' she answered, giggling when Lukas wrinkled his nose.

'It definitely doesn't suit you,' he muttered, blushing when Maren kissed his nose. 'It feels wrong to say.'

'Well, at least I am no longer a Sørensen.'

They shared another kiss in that hallway before heading out of the house. Lukas told her to be careful and to stay safe that night, to which Maren smiled sadly at him and promised that she would try. They parted ways, and Lukas went home with a plan brewing away in his head. He hoped that it would work.

He found Sally in the library that afternoon, told her what to say to his mother and at dinner, Lukas watched as his mother's face fell at the news of Maren wearing more make-up than usual. Clearly she knew the reason why.

Lukas went to bed that night with his mind thriving.

 **.**

Thursday afternoon came around, and Lukas was in his room, open bag on his bed as he went around putting clothes and necessities into it. He had spent his weekend and all Monday afternoon getting everything he needed for his plan to work. It had taken a lot of convincing and persuading in order to get all the necessary documents, all the information, the details, but he had become successful in the end. It had taken him another two days to get himself in order, to make sure that all the paperwork was valid, relatable and sorted out accordingly. All the papers sat in a huge folder next to his bag, waiting to be put in last.

Lukas was brought out of his thoughts when there was a knock upon his door. Going over to open it, he found Sally standing in the doorway.

'You called for me?' she trilled, smiling hugely.

'Ah, Sally, come in.'

Lukas stepped aside for her to enter, shutting the door before turning to her. He caught her in time to see a confused expression pass over her face as her piercing eyes landed on the mess upon his bed.

'Are you going somewhere, Lukas?'

'Yes…' Clearing his throat, Lukas gazed at her. 'I don't know when I'll be back—hopefully not too long, but you never know with these kinds of things. But that is why I've called you. I need you to do something for me while I'm away, if you may?'

When Sally nodded rapidly, Lukas moved to his dresser and took out a piece of paper—the same piece of paper Maren had given him long ago. He returned to Sally and gave it to her.

'Every Friday at noon until I return, I want you to go to this address,' he said to her seriously. 'Maren will be there waiting for me. I want you to tell her that I won't be able to make it as I am away, and that I am very sorry for leaving unannounced. Tell her that I'll try and be back as soon as possible, and keep an eye on her, Sally? Remember to keep Mother updated as usual. Can you do that for me?'

'Of course, Lukas!' Sally hesitated, then asked, 'But, if I may ask, what is it you're doing?'

Lukas sighed. 'I'd rather not say, just in case it doesn't work out… but I hope to god it does.'

Sally hummed in acknowledgement and smiled at him. 'I'll do what I can, Lukas.'

'Thank you.' Lukas glanced at his suitcase, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 'Hopefully by doing this, we can be one step closer to doing something.'

Looking up at him, Sally frowned. 'I hope you know what you're doing.'

'I hope so too.' Lukas grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them. 'One more thing. Tell her that I love her?'

'Of course,' Sally replied, hugging him tightly. 'Have a safe trip, and don't do anything stupid.'

Lukas promised that he would try and he watched as Sally left the room, tucking Maren's getaway address in the front of her apron. He turned back to his suitcase, placed the folder on top of his clothes, shut it and locked it. He sighed. He hoped that everything would work in their favour. It had to…

Without another thought, Lukas grabbed his bag and went down to meet the Bondevik chauffeur, who drove him to the train station so Lukas could catch the six o'clock train. From there, he would start his journey to Helsinki.

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

 _June, Helsinki_

 **.**

Checking his appearance in a nearby reflective surface, Lukas set his jaw and turned to the man who was awaiting his response.

'I would like to see and talk with this man, please.'

He slid him a piece of paper with a name, and the man behind the counter frowned at Lukas upon reading the name. When asked what his business was with him, Lukas merely raised an eyebrow.

'That's confidential, but as you can see by what I've just given you, I have permission to speak with him… _without_ disclosing my reasons for being here.'

After a moment of glaring at each other, the man behind the counter clicked his tongue and vanished into the depths of the room behind him. Lukas straightened his back and smoothed down his tie, licking his lips in sudden nervousness. If he didn't do well from here on out, then it would have all been for nothing.

It had taken Lukas about a week to reach Helsinki and another three days in order to be allowed to do what he wanted, and that was to speak to a prisoner. Now that he was at the prison, Lukas' confidence was starting to crumble. What if he failed? What if everything he had wanted to do didn't get a chance to be completed? He didn't have time to dwell on the matter for the man returned with a guard and a stern, 'You stick to 'im like glue, ya hear?'

Nodding once, Lukas followed the guard down the prison corridors. He heard the gate behind him shut with a loud clang, and he swallowed thickly. The place smelt terrible, and the grey walls and leaden bars made Lukas feel trapped and claustrophobic. It was nothing like the trenches of France, but it was very close to them. The pair walked promptly, their shoes making echoing sounds on the concrete. Turning a few corners, they eventually came to a wooden door and, the guard opening it with a set of keys, entered.

 _It's now or never, Lukas…_

In the small room was a wide table, with two chairs on opposite sides. Diagonally across from where Lukas and the guard stood was another door, no doubt leading to the cells in which the prisoners were kept in. Drawing back one of the chairs, Lukas slid into it, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. It was cold in that room, and a shiver went down his spine as goose bumps crawled up his skin. The longer he stayed in that room, the more he wanted to leave.

But not before his deed was done.

Scanning the cracked walls and ceiling, Lukas' eyes landed on the other guard in the room. His voice loud in the small space, Lukas asked if the guards could leave once the prisoner arrived, to which they denied his request. One would remain in the corner, just in case the prisoner were to attack, while the other would whisk Lukas to safety. Lukas doubted that the prisoner would hurt him, but he wasn't one to argue with the guards, not this time.

The cell door opened, and Lukas stood up from his seat as the prisoner was brought in. He was shorter than Lukas, but more muscular around the shoulders. A baggy, grey uniform hung on his figure, clearly a size too big for the poor man. Pale, shaggy hair covered his eyes, which were a light blue that seemed almost purple. There were bruises on his jaw, a scar over his left eye, handcuffs on his pale wrists and a look of polite confusion on his face. Lukas sent him a half-smile, shook his hand—or tried to—and frowned.

He turned to the guard by the cell door. 'Are the handcuffs really necessary?'

The guard rolled his eyes and said, 'Do you really want the risk of him touching you? You do know what he's in here for?'

Lukas glared at him. 'Yes, I am aware. But I am also aware of his personality. Now, if you please…'

There a moment where the guard and Lukas merely stared at each other. In the end, the guard tutted loudly and moved to take the handcuffs off the prisoner's wrists with a _click_. He rubbed them and sent Lukas a grateful look.

'Thank you.'

Lukas shook his hand properly and they sat down to talk. The prisoner still looked very confused, and Lukas decided to put him out of his misery.

'My name is Lukas Bondevik,' he began, 'and I'm a friend. I'm here to help you, Mister Väinämöinen.'

Tino cocked his head to the side. 'A friend? I'm afraid I don't know you, sir.' His voice was deeper than what Lukas imagined a man of his size would have, thick with a familiar accent, but it was a voice that was sincere, cool and calm.

'Lukas, please—and yes, I know.' Lukas sent him a furtive look. 'I'm a… um, an acquaintance, shall we say? Of Berwald's. I come in his place.'

The moment Berwald's name escaped Lukas' mouth, Tino's eyes lit up and a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. But then it disappeared as quickly as it had come and he whispered, 'Is he alive? He survived?'

Lukas frowned slightly at the odd question, but nodded regardless. 'Yes, he's in London.'

He watched as Tino laughed breathlessly, burying his head in his hands. He ran them through his choppy hair—a poor excuse of a haircut that the prison guards must have given him, Lukas noted—and he didn't hesitate to grin broadly at Lukas. The smile was so contagious that Lukas couldn't help but smile softly back.

'Oh, thank god!' Tino cried quietly. 'I was so sure they… you know…'

'He's not dead, Mister Väinämöinen,' Lukas said to him gently.

'Call me Tino. Mister Väinämöinen makes me sound old!' He leant forward on his elbows in excitement. 'So… what is he up to? He's well? Not too sad, I hope?'

Lukas sighed. _I can't lie to him… I need him to trust me._ 'Well…' He saw Tino's face droop and his eyes become alert. 'He's married.'

'Oh…' Tino's eyes widened as his voice tightened. He was on the verge of crying, Lukas could tell—it was very similar to the way in which Maren attempted not to cry. 'Lucky him.'

'No, not lucky,' Lukas said harshly, going on to clarify when Tino looked at him sharply. 'He was married against his will, Tino. He's not happy. Without you, he's lost and alone and _not happy at all._ '

He breathed in deeply.

 _Now, Lukas. Now is the time to put everything in motion._

'Which is why I've come to get you out of here and back home to him.'

There was tension in the air around them and Tino's jaw slackened. Lukas raised an eyebrow at him once he started spluttering, 'But—but why? You don't even know me! And they're not going to let me out that easily—you do know why they've imprisoned me?'

'Of course.' Lukas smiled at him then, hugely and wickedly. 'But I also have enough evidence to prove your innocence. You've been wrongly convicted. They broke the law trying to get you in here, and I'm going to expose them. Then I'll take you to London once you're out… take you to see Berwald.'

Tino gaped at Lukas, and Lukas gazed back at him.

'You…' Tino laughed gently, incredulously. 'You are something, Lukas… But I have to ask. _Why?_ '

Lukas glanced down at his hands. Yes… he knew that he would ask why… but how he would answer it, he still wasn't quite sure.

'Maybe because… I don't want someone else to suffer,' he said slowly, chewing his words before letting them out. 'I'm sick of seeing people suffering, or being away from those they love.' He swallowed and looked at Tino. 'I want justice served, and properly.'

The only thing Tino could say was, 'You crazy fucker,' before the cell door opened and another guard came in to tell them their time was up. Standing up, and as they shook hands once more, Tino said a quiet, 'I don't know what you're planning with all this, but thank you nonetheless. You're the first person to show me kindness since I came here.'

Lukas bowed his head politely. 'Give me until the end of the week. If I've failed and you're not out of here by then, then feel free to curse my grave for giving you false hope.'

Tino merely laughed. 'Strangely enough, I trust you.'

They parted ways, but not before Lukas heard the familiar _click_ of the handcuffs being put back onto Tino's wrists. As he was guided back down towards the exit of the prison, Lukas could only think that the sooner Tino was out of this place, the better.

 **.**

 _One week later_

 **.**

It was around six in the evening when the gates to the prison opened. Lukas was waiting outside, his bag by his feet and the butt of his cigarette in between his fingers. Throwing it onto the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of his shoe, he looked up in time to see a familiar figure approaching him.

True to his word, Lukas had taken the week after he had seen Tino in the interview room in order to argue Tino's case, and after much persuasion and reasoning, Lukas had become successful—and there was Tino now, with a small bag slung over his shoulder and some decent clothes on his back. Upon reaching Lukas, Tino took a brief moment to close his eyes and tilt his head towards the sky. Lukas took him in, and was glad to see that the former bruises he had seen were fading… but the ray of the sunlight made the scar on Tino's eye glisten, and for some reason, it haunted Lukas. He had a feeling he had either acquired it during the war or during his time in prison. Either way, it looked recent: red, jagged, thick. Tino's lids lifted and the colour shone as he stared at the pink, summer sky.

'I never thought I'd see the sky from the outside so soon…' Tino grinned at Lukas and took his hands in his. 'Thank you, Lukas… really, how can I ever repay you?'

Lukas merely shrugged. In truth, his larger plan would have Tino play a huge role, but before he could reveal the details, he needed to sort out a few things first. He needed to be sure that everything was in place before initiating the greater plan. He had put a lot of thought into this, after all… he didn't want it to fail before it started. 'Welcome back, Tino,' was what he said, and he gestured towards the direction on the way to the train station. 'Shall we?'

Tino straightened his back and nodded, his eyes steeled over with a kind of determination. As they made their way to the train station, Tino couldn't stop marvelling at everything, especially over how shocked he was at Lukas' behaviour, but how he was thankful nonetheless; Lukas had gotten a tsunami of gratitude from the man. He was glad to see someone looking happy, and was glad that his words managed to get an innocent man out of prison, especially since he was put in there unfairly in the first place.

By the time they got to the station, it was around eight o'clock, and the sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon. It would be another hour before the train to Stockholm would arrive, so Tino and Lukas spent their time in a nearby café, where Lukas had bought the poor man something to eat. At first Tino had denied the notion of Lukas' kindness, as he had already done so much—but when a pastry landed in front of him, he couldn't resist. Lukas fought hard not to smile.

They were content to spend their time in the café in a peaceful silence, Tino munching on his pastry and Lukas sipping at his coffee. Lukas, for once, was feeling rather excited. He was excited for Tino to see Berwald again, and he was excited to finally be able to do something about his beloved's predicament. With his plan already off to a good start, he couldn't think what could possibly go wrong.

When the train arrived, pistons squealing to a sluggish stop, Tino and Lukas clambered into the nearest carriage and sought out a compartment of their own. Luckily, they managed to find an empty one, one that would remain empty for the remainder of their journey, and due to the big day they had had, they both fell asleep rather quickly.

Lukas went to sleep feeling incredibly proud of himself.

 _One down… One step closer…_

 _ **.**_

'You alright, Lukas?'

Tino and Lukas were sitting in the dining compartment, eating the breakfast that had been provided by the staff. While Tino was heartily digging into his food, Lukas wasn't feeling that hungry, and had resorted to swirling his fork around his plate. The action hadn't gone unnoticed by Tino.

Lukas looked up in mild confusion and nodded in response to Tino's question.

Tino raised an eyebrow. 'Really? Because you look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.'

Blinking at him once, Lukas shifted his gaze to the moving world outside and sighed. 'Well… I suppose I have the weight of my little world on my shoulders, yes…' He glanced back at his companion. 'It's complicated.'

'We have a while until London. Besides,' Tino went on casually, 'I would like to know more about the stranger who went out of his way to save me.'

Chuckling, Lukas spread out his hands. 'Very well.' He breathed in deeply. 'I'm in love with a married woman.'

Tino nearly spat out the mouthful of food he had just put in his mouth. 'You what? Lukas… that's not healthy.'

He scowled at him. 'Yes, I know, but like I said, it's complicated…'

When Tino simply gave him an expectant look, Lukas sighed in resignation.

'Alright… I'll do my best to explain.'

Given it was such a long story, it took Lukas the train ride to Stockholm and into Oslo, down to Copenhagen and then towards Paris in order to tell Tino everything. He told him about how he and Maren had met on the train to the frontline, how they had been split apart when Maren had taken the bullet for him and nearly died in the process. He told him about what the next three years of the war were like for him—and he felt he explained to Tino better than he had to Maren, as he could leave some details out and Tino would have known what he had meant by them, as opposed to Maren's lack of knowledge given her short time in the war. Then he had told him about the situation with himself and Maren, how she had been married off as a punishment for her actions during the war, how Hexley beat her, how Lukas and her met in secret once a week.

Then the tale moved to Lukas telling Tino of Berwald's situation, and the look of horror that had pretty much remained throughout all of Lukas' story deepened when he heard what had happened to his lover. Lukas relayed the information Maren had told him to Tino, about how Berwald had been married—in a similar fashion to Maren—as penance due to his involvement with Tino, and how the original plan of keeping a close eye on Maren couldn't happen anymore because of it. By the time Lukas had finished his story, he felt drained, and even more upset about the whole thing.

But… with the plan in motion, he was hoping to fix it all, once and forever.

They were in their compartment in their train to Paris when Lukas had finally finished. Tino was in awe, and Lukas could see anger flashing in his eyes.

'Shit…' Tino shook his head in disbelief, and the lights of the compartment cast eerie shadows on his face. 'Poor things… Such kind people do not deserve what has happened to them! I can't believe how monstrous their parents are! They should be arrested, the lot of them… especially that bastard who's been putting his hands on that poor woman.'

Lukas couldn't agree more. He wanted everyone who was responsible for Maren's, Berwald's and Tino's sorrows to be put behind bars for life. Breathing out slowly, Lukas ran his hand through his hair to smooth it back and his eyes flicked to the darkened world out the train window.

'They deserve justice, and I am willing to go to great lengths to achieve it,' he said quietly. He shifted his gaze back to Tino. 'Now, enough of me talking. I'm sure you're tired of my voice by now. Tell me about yourself—how did you and Berwald meet?'

Tino smiled sourly. 'The same way you and Maren met. At war.'

Lukas knew there was more to it, and he was surprised once Tino continued talking. Like Lukas', Tino's story was long and detailed; it took the remainder of their trip to Paris and then the boat to Folkestone—and Lukas had been grateful for the distraction that was Tino's voice as the boat made its course.

'I was born and bred in Bath, up until I was around fourteen. My parents then decided that they wanted to move back to Finland, and me being an only child, I had no choice but to comply with their wishes. We lived there until the start of the war, and because I'm still a British citizen, I was expected to fight. So I signed up for the BEF at the end of 1915, as I had come back to England two months before the war had begun and I still hadn't turned eighteen. So unlike you, I was of age when I signed up.

'From there… well, I was sent to France at the start of 1916, and I started to specialise in sniping. The senior officers had become impressed by my skill during training, and they insisted that I work on it until it was the best it could be. Soon enough, when it came to sniping missions and the like, I was the one put in charge. It was a shock, to say the least—not to mention embarrassing, because I got so many dirty looks from the older soldiers—but I managed to keep low and out of sight for a while. I was a bit a lone wolf so to speak, and in every place we were sent to—Ypres, Flanders, Verdun—I didn't bother to make friends.

'Then I met Berwald.'

When Tino had mentioned the towns he had been stationed in, Lukas hadn't hesitated to grimace. But when Tino's voice had turned wistful at the mention of Berwald, Lukas felt his heart repair itself a little bit. The way he had spoken about his lover made him remember how his love had bloomed for Maren during the war.

'Given that our battalions had had huge losses by the time we met, our superiors decided to merge us together. I spent more time with Berwald than I had first anticipated. We were in Passchendaele when we met, and after that first meeting, we became inseparable. It was amazing how such a soft-spoken, intimidating guy became my best friend in the space of a few days, but god… I was so grateful for the company.

'There were, of course, many moments where I was so scared we were going to die… Passchendaele had turned ugly very quickly, and it was so muddy that we could hardly make any progress… It was also in Passchendaele that I realised Berwald was… well… a bit _more_ than just a friend, and any thought of him becoming injured or—god forbid—dying killed me inside. I couldn't bear the thought.

'I didn't tell him how I felt for months. We moved from Passchendaele to other parts of Belgium and France—I can't remember the names—and every new place brought new fears. Unknown territory made me so scared that I was almost sick. New generals and new superiors made me uneasy. Berwald was my rock throughout the whole thing—god, he still is!

'Then something magical happened in 1917. Berwald had been acting restless for a few days, and every time he wanted to tell me something, he hesitated, stopped completely and walked away. I was very confused by what had been happening, but he certainly surprised me when one night, when everyone was asleep, he dragged into a corner of the trench we were in. It was dark, as it was the middle of the night, at best, and it was away from any prying eyes. There were no words needed—Berwald's not very good with words, but his actions… _god,_ Lukas, it was like I was on air! It was like I _was_ air, it was that uplifting.

'I love you, that kiss said. I need you and want you, it also said. It was short, and kind of clumsy, to be honest, but… it was enough to make my mouth burn for _days_. So that was how we confessed. I was so, so unbelievably happy. Berwald was too, because that was the only time he had a genuine smile on his face.

'So we stayed together right up until the end of the war in November. When the officials told us we didn't have to fight anymore, we were in shock—as no doubt you were, too—but it gave me an excuse to take Berwald to Helsinki. We constantly talked about our homelands, and I had promised him that if we both survived the war, I would take him to Helsinki, and he would take me to Stockholm, maybe even Göteborg if we had time.

'But by the time we got to Helsinki… It was hell, let me tell you. Berwald had sent a letter to his parents saying that he would be arriving later than anticipated because he was travelling with a friend—that friend being me—to Finland. His parents had, for whatever reason, misinterpreted "friend" for "lover"—which they weren't wrong about, but we weren't going to admit that! They then, in the meantime, had alerted the police in Helsinki—how they did that, I haven't the slightest idea—and when we arrived, I was taken into custody immediately. I was so sure that the police had arrested Berwald as well, and I was terrified that they were going to kill him. They were very aggressive with us—that's how I got this scar. The policeman who had had a hold on me thought it would be smart to stop my struggling by hurting me. It worked, I can't deny that, but it came with a cost. Nearly lost my eye.

'The law didn't give me a trial. I was locked up in an instant, all on the assumption that Berwald was being "pursued against his will" by me. They didn't give me any news on Berwald after that, and I've spent the last few months in prison, not knowing what the hell was happening on the outside.

'And then you came along, like a knight, and got me out. The rest is history.'

 **.**

 _July, London_

 **.**

The summer had hit England full force by the time Tino and Lukas made it to London. July was in its earliest, the air stagnant with warmth, but with the smell of evening rain wafting around. As they got off the train and into the heat of the day outside the station, their bags in their hands and hats on their heads, Tino and Lukas glanced at each other; Tino looked excited and nervous at the same time, and Lukas had a blank expression. Lukas reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the piece of paper Maren had given him at their last meeting, the one with Berwald's address on it.

'Right,' he said slowly, 'Berwald's house isn't too far from here. We can walk there, if you're keen?'

'Listen, I'm just glad I'm not in prison anymore,' Tino told him seriously. 'Walking, running, taking a car there—I don't mind at all.' He breathed out loudly. 'As long as I get to be with Berwald again.'

'Very well, then. We'll walk.'

So Lukas guided Tino around London, and Tino was fascinated by everything he saw. It was so unlike Bath, he told Lukas, and he was having so much fun with Lukas' miniature tour that he didn't realise straightaway that they were metres away from the Oxenstierna manor.

Unlike Björnstad House, the Oxenstierna manor had been refurbished to fit the hustle and bustle of the London city centre. While it was still, no doubt, larger than the houses that surrounded it, it didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The manor was painted white and cream, the windows smaller than those of Lukas' home, and the front door was half the size of the ones that belonged to the Bondevik manor. It was beautiful nonetheless, Lukas couldn't deny that, and it suited the aesthetic of its location.

Tino exchanged a look with Lukas, and Lukas swallowed discreetly. They came to a silent agreement, and they slowly made their way up the little path to the front door. Standing a little way away from it, Lukas looked over to see Tino trembling, but he had an incredibly excited look on his face.

Lukas placed a hand on his shoulder. 'You ready?'

Tino gazed at him and nodded once firmly. He then stepped over to the side to remain hidden—as discussed on the train—while Lukas did the talking. Sending him a thumbs up, Lukas raised his hand and knocked loudly on the large, wooden door.

It was about a minute before it opened, and Lukas held his breath and bowed his head politely as a man—no doubt the butler of the manor—came into view. The butler looked slightly confused at Lukas' presence, but asked in a deep tone, 'How may I help you, sir?'

'Good day, sir,' Lukas greeted. 'I was wondering if Mister Oxenstierna is in.'

'Yes, he is, sir…' The butler stared at Lukas with narrowed eyes. 'May I ask who is asking for him?'

Lukas smiled gently. 'A friend.'

The butler raised a dubious, sceptical eyebrow. 'Very well,' he said after a moment. 'Shall I show you in?'

Shaking his head, Lukas told him, 'I'd prefer it if we met out here for now. But if it is an issue, then by all means, I will come inside.'

'I'll see what I can do. Please wait here.'

As the butler went back inside to fetch Berwald, Lukas glanced over to Tino. He saw him looking very baffled and he whispered harshly, 'Have you… Have you actually _met_ Berwald before?' When Lukas shook his head, Tino nearly yelled. 'Are you serious? Are you telling me you did all this on a _whim?_ You're crazy, you're officially crazy!'

'Shut up, he's coming now,' Lukas hissed at him when he saw a very tall figure and the butler coming towards the door from the corner of his eye. When they were both standing in front of him, Lukas inclined his head towards the butler in gratitude before taking the man of the house in. He was very tall and broad in the shoulders—around the same height as Hexley, now that Lukas noticed—with thin-rimmed glasses and piercing blue eyes behind the lenses. While Maren's were a warm blue, like the afternoon, summer sky that was above them, this man's eyes were an icy blue, frosty and cool, and they shimmered like glaciers. Thick, blond hair was slicked back, with only a few strands resisting and sticking out.

'My Lord, the guest.'

'Thank you, Mister Smith,' the man—whom Lukas presumes is Berwald—said to his butler.

'Mister Oxenstierna.' Lukas held out his hand. 'My name is Lukas Bondevik.'

Shaking his hand, Berwald's face forms into an interested one. 'Maren's man?' At Lukas' nod, Berwald said to him, 'She said you were coming to visit me… but that was about a month ago.'

'Yes… about that.' Lukas cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. 'I was abroad. I didn't have time to tell her where I was going… It was something important I had to do.'

Berwald merely stared at him for a moment—making Lukas' palms sweat—then muttered, 'So you've come today to make up for it?'

'Yes, I have.'

'Then you better come in,' Berwald mumbled matter-of-factly, stepping to the side to allow Lukas enough room to enter. 'I have a feeling we have much to discuss.'

'Indeed we do…' Lukas trailed off, gazing deeply at Berwald. 'But there is something I'd like to ask you first—is your wife home?'

Berwald frowned, and said slowly, 'No… she's in town… Why do you ask?'

Lukas sucked in a breath. _This is it. Please, god, make it work. This is our only chance!_

'Because there is someone who wants to see you.'

He turned his head towards Tino and moved over to in order for Tino to stand next to him. Coming out from his hiding spot, he smiled at Berwald, muttering shyly, 'Hey, Ber… Long time no see, huh?'

Berwald was speechless: his mouth hung open in shock and his eyes round behind his glasses, and it took him a moment in order to reach a hand towards Tino's face, unable to believe what was standing right in front of him. His mouth silently formed his lover's name—but then he backtracked and muttered, 'Get in. Not out here,' and walked briskly inside.

Lukas and Tino were quick to follow, but not before swapping a confused look. They tailed Berwald towards a drawing room, a dark crimson room that was touched with silver on the walls and the embroidery on the pillows and furniture. It was only once Berwald had shut the drawing room door that he moved forward and pulled Tino into a hug. Lukas watched with a soaring heart as the two embraced, Tino weeping softly into Berwald's neck, and Berwald kissing absolutely all over Tino's face.

A moment passed before Berwald moved slightly away, gaping at Lukas and whispering in a kind of awe, 'Why? I don't understand… why? And how?'

Looking at him blankly, Lukas told him, 'That trip I was on? I was getting him out… and like I told him on the train back here, I couldn't bear to see another couple suffer. Justice was served as it ought to have been. Given mine and Maren's situation—as she's told you, no doubt—I got sick of sitting around and not doing anything. So this was the start. As to how… Let's just say I am pretty convincing.'

Berwald's eyes darkened. 'I hope you didn't do anything illegal.'

'Of course not. I would be a hypocrite if I did.'

'I assure you, Berwald, he did nothing wrong,' Tino piped up, grinning up at him. 'But look… I'm home, just like I said I would be. I'm home, my love.'

Overwhelmed, Berwald bent down and placed a bruising kiss on Tino's lips. His hands held the smaller man by the waist, and Tino responded with his fingers losing themselves in Berwald's hair, tracing his jawline and smoothing his thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. The sheer love they displayed for each other made Lukas yearn for Maren. He felt awful for leaving her unannounced—he had from the moment he stepped into the car that Thursday evening—without a goodbye or a kiss filled with a promise to return. All he could think was, _good thing Friday is tomorrow… I'll make it up to her then, for certain._

But he had done it. Step two was now in motion, and he was starting to feel incredibly excited.

Or so he thought.

At that moment, the door to the drawing room opened—effectively causing Berwald and Tino to split apart from their kiss—and in came a woman.

'Berwald, you will not _believe_ what I just found out—'

She stopped at the sight of the three men in the room. They all froze, and the room remained so silent that one could hear a pin drop. Lukas' eyes were round, and he glanced quickly at Berwald and Tino. Tino's face had formed into an expression of horror, terrified that they had been caught. Berwald, however, didn't seemed fazed by the woman's appearance at all.

'Genevieve…' He gestured towards Tino. 'May I introduce—?'

'Oh my god, they weren't joking, were they?' Genevieve exclaimed. She went up to Tino and took his hands in her gloved ones. 'You really were released! You are Tino, yes?'

 _What?_

Lukas was perplexed. Genevieve was smiling broadly, her dark eyes shining with delight. He ruled out the thought that perhaps she was a cousin of Berwald's, as her black hair and darker skin stood out against Berwald's paleness. His mouth dried when an idea planted itself in his head, and he hoped it wasn't true…

Berwald simply smiled at both Lukas and Tino. 'Seems like I have explaining to do as well.' He gestured for them to take a seat, and when they did, he cleared his throat. 'Gentlemen, this is my wife, Genevieve. Genevieve, this is Tino and Lukas, the man I told you about that is with my sister.'

 _Oh god! It's the wife!_ Lukas wiped his clammy palms on his trousers, licking his lips in terror. Tino squirmed next to him, his lips in a tight line and his eyes darting around the room, landing on everything except for Genevieve's face. But then Berwald's words sunk into Lukas' mind, making him think properly. _Wait…_

'Judging by your surprised faces, I gather Maren didn't have time to tell you had happened, Lukas?' Berwald added. 'About our situation?'

'Well…' Lukas replied softly, 'yes, she told me how you were married against your will—and how Tino was arrested and imprisoned in Helsinki.'

'So she didn't tell you about what happened afterwards?' Lukas blinked, his expression vacant, and Berwald raised an eyebrow. 'So she didn't. Very well, I shall explain. Genevieve and I are the same. We have both been married to each other as way of punishment: me because of you, Tino, and Genevieve because of another woman.'

Well. Lukas did _not_ expect to hear _that_.

Tino spoke for them both, after letting out a strangled sound. 'Wait, so you're both—?'

'Yes, we are.' Genevieve laughed. 'Who would have thought? It took us a while to tell each other the truth, but once we did, we told each other everything else there was to say. Berwald told me about you, Tino, and I told him about my great love… who I just saw in town!'

'So naturally,' Berwald went on, 'we're keeping up the appearance of being married for our families and the general public.' He scowled heavily at the fact, but his face softened somewhat as he added, 'But we've decided to live together as companions and as friends.'

Lukas and Tino glanced at one another, both sets of eyebrows having shot into their hairlines. This was beyond belief. The chances of this happening were almost non-existent! And yet… there they were. At this new piece of information, Lukas' brain began to work overtime. Perhaps Genevieve, too, could play a role in his plan…

'This is extraordinary,' Tino whispered out, leaning back into his seat and rubbing his forehead with a set of fingers.

'Yes, but not as extraordinary as you getting out of prison!' Genevieve shook her head and let out a mixture between a laugh and a sound of shock. 'Other than seeing Annabelle, I went to the attorney's office to see what was happening with you in Helsinki. You see, Berwald and I had planned to get you out ourselves in some shape or form. But then he told me that you had been released two weeks ago!'

Tino grinned hugely. 'All because of this man!' he crowed, slapping Lukas' shoulder. 'Without him, I'd still be in there.'

Genevieve turned to him with wide eyes. 'Good god. You went there on your own? Got him out in that amount of time?' She smiled, showing pearly teeth. 'You good man… But may I ask why?'

Just as he had explained to Tino and Berwald, Lukas told her the same, then sighed. There was more to his story, but he had been waiting for the right moment to continue with his explanation. Now that he had their full attention, the time had come. It was time to tell them the other part of the truth, or rather the rest of it.

'Also within that,' Lukas said softly, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, 'I wanted to gain your trust. I wanted you to see that I mean what I say and that I will go out of my way to make something happen. The truth is…' He hesitated, but at the interested looks on the trio's faces, he managed to go on to say, 'I want to get Maren out of that family. Her and her son. I want to get Hexley in jail for his crimes against her, and your parents, too. What they have all done is horrible and evil, and they need to pay for it.' He breathed in deeply. 'But I need your help.'

There was a moment's silence. Lukas' tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. He watched as the three of them exchanged a series of expressions between them until they focused on Lukas. It was Berwald who spoke.

'What do you have in mind?'

So, straightening his back, Lukas told them his plan in full.

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

Lukas went home that day feeling confident. After having relayed his plan to the three, they were on board with the idea immediately. They worked hard to get the next step of the plan in motion, and after Lukas got home later in the evening, he met up with Sally. They sat down for a few hours, Sally telling Lukas everything she had done with Maren and how she had been over the past month. He was delighted to hear that everything seemed to be in order, and that nothing major had happened to her while he had been away. Lukas then told Sally of what he had been doing that past month, and asked her if she wanted to be a part of the plan as well. She didn't hesitate to say yes, and Lukas filled her in on what they were planning to do.

He went to bed with a huge smile on his face and his chest surging with pride. He turned his head to his bedside table and grabbed his beloved swan. It had travelled with him to Helsinki and back, and he had done what he had done on the front, kissing its head before going to sleep. Lukas kissed it again that night, stroking its elegant neck and smiling at the thought of seeing his love that following afternoon.

'I'm home, darling,' he whispered in the darkness. 'Have faith… We're getting you and Emil out soon.'

 **.**

The next day, Lukas was standing by his and Maren's little house, a bunch of dahlias in his hand instead of a rose—a handy piece of information he had gotten from Sally, as Maren had commented on how dahlias were her favourite flower at some point—and tapping his foot. He was feeling rather impatient, as he had missed Maren terribly while he had been working to get Tino out of prison. Much to his delight, he didn't have to wait long, for there was Maren now, coming up the path towards him. She had her head down and an old wicker basket hanging off her arm. Lukas looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to lift her head to see him instead of Sally standing there waiting for her.

As Maren walked, Lukas felt his chest surge with love. Just by seeing her, he felt the pieces of the huge puzzle that was his life fall into place. When she finally lifted her head, about a few metres away from where he stood, Lukas greeted her with a calm smile and the dahlias behind his back—as a surprise, of course! Her eyes landing on him, her expression formed into one of delight and a smile so large split her cheeks that Lukas' heart skipped a beat. She had become even more beautiful over the time they had been apart—or perhaps he thought that way because he hadn't been exposed to her beauty while he had been travelling.

'Lukas!' Maren cried, running up to him and embracing him tightly. Lukas didn't have time to return the gesture when she let go quickly. 'Wait, inside first.'

Without another moment's hesitation, the pair went up the little path to the door and entered; once the door had shut behind them and her basket had been put down, Maren returned to hugging Lukas. He hugged her back just as hard she was hugging him, with the arm that was not hiding the dahlias, losing himself in her smell—still like a bakery, fresh and warm and _homely_ —and, pulling away, he kissed her lips firmly. He kissed her as if to make up for all the kisses he had missed while he had been gone; Lukas took his time in the way he moved his mouth against Maren's, and he sighed into the joint when he felt her hands cup his face.

Lukas was delighted to be home, and the kiss was one of the best he had had for a while.

Breaking apart softly, Lukas presented his love with the dahlias, and he couldn't help the toothy grin that quirked the corners of his mouth when her face lit up with happiness and as her eyes sparkled.

'Oh… they're beautiful!' She took the bunch from him and looked at him in scrutiny as she brought the flowers to her nose, albeit with a small smile gracing her lips. 'Is this an apology for your rapid departure? For leaving me for a month?'

Scratching his head sheepishly, Lukas replied bashfully, 'Yes… and also because I love you and wanted to get you something you liked.'

At that, Maren couldn't help the loud coo that escaped her mouth, and nor could she resist the urge to plant kisses all over Lukas' face. Lukas spluttered a lot at the action, very embarrassed as his cheeks went red… but he still couldn't wipe the smile off his face. God, had he missed her… He still felt terrible for leaving without letting her know, but hopefully once he revealed to her why he had done what he had, she would forgive him for his tardiness.

Looking down at the dahlias, Maren grabbed Lukas' hand and started moving towards the kitchen. 'I see you've been talking to Sally,' was what she said as they got to the pristine little room. 'She's been good company. We've talked about a lot of things.'

'I'm glad.' Lukas genuinely meant that, and he watched as she put the dahlias in the same vase as she had put the rose in that one time and as she arranged them. 'I really am sorry that I left as I did. It was an urgent matter.'

'So Sally told me. She's a sweet girl. Very kind. It was nice to have someone to talk to while you were away.' Maren glanced at him over the flowers. 'I don't suppose you're going to tell me where you've been and what you've been doing?'

'In due course, Maren.' He smiled at her while he walked up to her, then wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her gently. 'But first, I would like to see you and talk to you about other things than what I've been away for.' He brushed his mouth on her neck. 'I've missed you…'

Maren sighed by his ear and pressed her lips to his cheek. 'And I you, Lukas… We've got some catching up to do.'

'Indeed.' He brushed some hair from away from her eyes and cupped her cheek in his palm. 'Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?'

'Multiple times. But I don't believe you.'

Lukas raised an eyebrow at her lack of confidence, but before he could retort, he was surprised when Maren giggled to herself and said, 'Oh, Lukas Bondevik… do I have questions for you.'

'What kind of questions?' Lukas felt perplexed and he stared at Maren blankly.

Maren grinned wickedly, and Lukas decided that he did not like the mischievous glint she had in her eyes. 'Oh, just a few things Sally told me.'

Feeling his heart drop, Lukas thought frantically, _what the hell did she say to her? Good god, I leave her for a month this happens… But what did Sally tell her?_ The thoughts were swept from his mind when Maren said casually, her tone airy and light, 'She mentioned a little something you two did in your younger years, about a year before you left for the war. You naughty thing, you.'

'She _what?_ ' Lukas' face paled rapidly. 'That… that was not for her to tell…'

Maren laughed loudly, the sound ringing in the kitchen. 'Lukas, darling, everyone experiments! There's nothing wrong with that! I did something similar with our kitchen maid before I ran away, and it was _fantastic_. Besides, I have a feeling you were going to tell me sooner or later.'

'Yes, but… in _other_ circumstances…'

Lukas was mortified. He hadn't been sure of his sexuality at a young age, and neither had Sally. As a result, they decided to experiment and see if they were attracted to the opposite sex—the only way to ensure their attractions was to involve some rather… _intimate_ actions. Lukas had planned to tell Maren, yes, but as he had been waiting for a more appropriate time to do so. _Trust Sally to be a step ahead of me, as usual!_

'It was nothing… _that_ naughty… We didn't go very far, I assure you!'

Maren kissed his nose. 'You're cute when you're embarrassed.'

Lukas turned away and grumbled something under his breath. Then he muttered, 'Remind me to have a word with Sally when I get home.'

'Now, now,' Maren chastised, 'there's no need for that.' She came into his sight, having leant to the side to catch his eye. 'I made her tell me. I was curious. She seemed rather close to you, and she told me that you had known each other since she had started working for your family. She also told me that she had seen us at the dinner near the stairs.' Maren's expression turned thoughtful. 'She told me she liked me, too.'

Raising an eyebrow, Lukas asked, 'Who wouldn't like you, Maren?'

She blushed. 'Shut up… I'm nothing special. But I meant that she liked me in a… romantic sense. But when she found out about us, she thought that there couldn't be a better person for me out there other than you.'

Lukas stared at her vacantly. That explained a few things… But as the last few words sunk in, his cheeks went pink. 'I… I don't know about that, but it's nice to know that she thinks that…'

Placing her lips on his forehead, Maren told him that Sally was right, he was the best thing that had happened to her. They fell into a silence then, content with each other's presence in the kitchen. Maren popped out briefly to fetch her basket, and when she unpacked the items, Lukas found himself feeling surprised. Out of the several months since March, not once had Lukas seen Maren bring her sketchbook, or any of her drawing tools to their meetings. But as she unpacked the items, he felt a surge of an unknown emotion in his chest. She explained to him that Sally had been interested in seeing Maren's art after a conversation they had had the previous week. Maren had promised to bring her old sketches to show the young kitchen maid the next time they were to meet. Of course, neither of them had known that Lukas would be coming instead.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Maren opened her sketchbook and flipped through the pages. Taking her lead, Lukas sat down opposite her and saw as she paused in the middle of the book. Her fingers stroked the page and, looking closer, Lukas' eyes went wide in recognition.

'Amazing… It's amazing how far we've come, isn't it, Lukas?' Maren held up the sketches she had drawn on the train an era ago, and Lukas was violently reminded of that trip to France. 'To think that we had no idea what was awaiting us…'

'Yes… yet here we are.'

Maren hummed and went back to turning the pages, landing on a page Lukas hadn't seen before. It looked like chaos, a mix of neat lines and scribbles trying to make sense of themselves.

'This was me trying to draw that night before we went to the Somme. Remember? In the inn?' She let out a short sound. 'I was so angry at myself that I couldn't be truthful with you. I tried to draw to get my mind off things but… I failed in that regard. My mind was filled with all these possibilities of us being happy together, yet every time I tried to draw a scenario, it ended up being a murky mess. I haven't drawn since then, believe it or not.'

Lukas flicked his gaze from the book to her face. Maren had her brow furrowed and her mouth was in a tight line. He reached over and took one of her hands, interlacing their fingers together and stroking the side of her hand with his thumb. She gave him a wry smile and lifted their hands to kiss Lukas' fingers. There was no need to say anything, as they both thought the same thing: that night had been the start of this mess.

Maren then picked up one of her pencils and opened to a new page. She didn't say anything as she started to draw, hesitantly at first, the sound of the scratching of lead on paper being the only thing they could hear. Lukas became fascinated in the way Maren drew, and he was in awe of how the strokes flew across the page and the image took form. He could make out that Maren was drawing him again: eyes closed, head tilted upwards and with his fringe falling across his forehead. He was always astounded as to how beautifully Maren drew him—he told her so, and said to her how unlike the real thing it was. She sent him a look and shook her head, telling him, 'You're just as beautiful as the first day I saw you, if not more so. If anything, my drawings don't do the real thing justice.'

Wondering if by the end of the day his face would remain red forever, Lukas averted his eyes from Maren's loving expression back down to the drawing. He then watched as Maren reached into her basket again and pulled out her misshapen nightingale, just as she finished the drawing of him. Placing it between them, pencil returned to paper as Maren started drawing the nightingale in the blank space by the drawing of Lukas' head. The bird was taking flight and Lukas' eyes drank in the sketch, taking in each detail, each fine stroke of lead. By the time Maren was done, the sketch was beyond anything Lukas had ever seen. He was embarrassed still of her earlier comment, but with the nightingale made almost real upon the page, he was amazed at her skill, and just how wonderful the picture looked altogether.

'Ah, that felt nice!' Maren sighed, grinning appreciatively at her own work. 'It's nice to be able to draw again! All thanks to you and Miss Sally.' She put down her pencil and gazed at Lukas deeply. 'I might bring this from now on… see what I can do with this newfound inspiration of mine. Is that alright?'

Lukas blinked at her blankly, then stood up from his seat, leant over and kissed her softly. 'That's not even a question you have to ask, my love. Of course you can, and not that you need permission from me in the first place.'

Maren smiled hugely and nodded in acknowledgement. She picked up the nightingale and held it up to her face, the blue shimmering with joy. 'I still love how you made this,' she said wistfully, turning the figure this way and that. 'I can see how much effort you put into it, and that makes it all the more special.'

'Well… I did try my best,' Lukas told her, shrugging, 'but it's clear that my skills don't lie in physical artistry. I work best with a pen and a notebook.'

She looked at him sharply. 'You write?'

'I… I mean, I dabble…'

'May I please read what you've written?' she asked excitedly, also standing up from her seat. Then her face faltered as she went on to say, 'I mean… if you want to…'

Turning away, Lukas mumbled, 'Of course… I'll bring my notebook next week… if you like…'

His cheeks were grabbed suddenly by Maren's palm and she kissed him. He bit his lip when she pulled away, and he felt his face grow red once again at the delighted expression she had form around her features. _She's too adorable for her own good…_ he thought, finding himself grinning stupidly at the thought.

They were interrupted at the sound of the church bell ringing in the distance. Lukas glanced towards the kitchen window, listening as the bell rang once, loud and clear. He turned to Maren after he realised what the bell meant. It was time to put the next part of his plan in motion.

'Darling?' When she looked at him, Lukas continued with, 'About my trip… I'm afraid I have to show you rather than simply tell you. It's a lot to explain, but I'd rather show you first and then explain.'

Tilting her head to the side, Maren asked, 'Oh? How do you mean?'

Lukas took her hands in his. 'We're going to have to walk to a place in order for me to show you.' He licked his drying lips. 'Is that alright?'

He saw her hesitate for a moment, before she swallowed and said, 'Going anywhere with you is fine, as long as it's not dangerous.'

'Oh, I promise you, Maren,' Lukas told her, grinning. 'It's anything _but_ dangerous. Trust me.'

 **.**

As they walked the streets of London towards Lukas' mystery destination, Maren would not stop asking him questions. She was determined to get an answer as to where they were going, what was the meaning behind his trip and just exactly what was going on. Lukas remained as tight-lipped as possible, as he didn't want to spoil the surprise—not that he told her that, merely sending her furtive looks and making a show of zipping his lips.

Along the way, there was the odd occasion where Maren would drag Lukas into an abandoned alleyway in order to steal a kiss or two. Lukas could tell that this new thing of them being out in the open together was exciting and daring, and no doubt Maren was tempted to push the boundary just a little bit further. No doubt she was still afraid of being caught, but the thought of her being safe and comfortable around Lukas in order to do such a thing made his heart soar. But her actions didn't just stop at kisses: she constantly brushed their hands together, would grab his elbow and point to something in the distance excitedly—be it someone's pet dog or a pretty garden in front of someone's house—and would send him large smiles that held the radiance of the sun that beat down on their heads.

When they reached the front door of the house that belonged to their destination, where Lukas had guided her to, Maren gave him a confused look.

'Lukas, where are we?'

Lukas waved a casual hand. 'You'll find out in just a moment.'

He knocked on the door promptly, and it wasn't even a full minute when the door opened and in the doorway stood the thin, wiry, silver-haired butler of the house.

'Ah, Mister Bondevik,' he greeted, nodding in Lukas' direction. He bowed towards Maren as well and said, 'Lady Hexley. They've been expecting you both. I'll take you to the drawing room. They're waiting for you in there.'

'Thank you, Mister Smith.'

Taking Maren's hand, Lukas guided her into the house, following the butler through the peach-walled corridors. Maren was whispering, 'What is going on, Lukas?' on the way, but Lukas left her question unanswered, just as he had done with the others. They reached the door to the drawing room soon enough, and Mister Smith knocked twice on it, opened it and said into the room beyond Maren's and Lukas' visions, 'Mister Bondevik and Lady Hexley have arrived.' He stepped aside in order to let them in with a sweep of his arm. Lukas glanced at Maren, smiled softly and gestured for her to go in first.

Her expression remained baffled as she went in front of Lukas and entered the drawing room. Lukas went in after her, coming just in time to hear a loud gasp be ripped from her throat. Shutting the door behind him, Lukas watched as Maren covered her mouth with her palm and as her eyes went wide as she drank in what was in front of her.

Or, rather, _who_ was in front of her.

Lukas had taken her to Berwald's manor, as he had promised Berwald he would when he had met him the previous day. He saw that Genevieve and Tino were in the room as well, but the attention was solely focused on the siblings, who were gaping at each other in shock and in relief. Upon the sight of her brother, Maren could only say, 'Berwald? Is that really you?' before they dashed towards each other and embraced each other so tightly Lukas wondered if they would ever let go. They cried silently into each other's necks, Maren whispering nonsense in Danish to her older brother. Lukas watched them with a soaring heart, happy that things were finally starting to look up.

He had just finished greeting Genevieve and Tino when the siblings pulled apart, smiling tearfully at each other. Berwald briefly wiped his eyes from under his glasses before saying, 'It's good to see you, Maren. Truly…'

'It's good to see you too, big brother,' Maren said to him, gripping his hands.

Berwald's stern façade melted away into nothing but pure happiness. He turned to the other three in the room and held out an arm. 'Let me introduce you. This is my wife and friendly companion, Genevieve. Genevieve, this is my sister, Maren.'

As the ladies shook hands, Maren with a huge smile on her face and Genevieve gushing over how pleased she was by finally meeting her, Lukas couldn't help the little smugness that grew inside his chest. Tino then stepped in and took Maren's hand gently.

'It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Maren. Berwald has told me a lot about you.'

Maren's face formed into one of confusion, but she shook Tino's hand nonetheless. 'It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mister…?'

'Ah! My apologies.' Tino grinned hugely at her. 'I'm Tino Väinämöinen. I think Berwald's mentioned me?'

Frozen, Maren's jaw slackened. She looked over to Lukas, then back to Tino, then to Berwald, then back to Tino, and muttered, 'You… But you were in prison! How…?'

Tino frowned. 'Lukas didn't tell you? He got me out of there! Came in like a hero, told the officials that they were holding me there illegally and freed me.'

Maren became speechless: her eyes were round in shock and her features painted with an expression of awe. She turned to Lukas slowly, still unable to believe what she was hearing. 'You went to Finland?'

Lukas smiled. 'I did.'

All Maren could do then was laugh. She laughed and went up to Lukas, kissing him so powerfully that he nearly fell over.

'You are insane! You're insane, you're officially insane!' She continued laughing, all the while wiping away tears of what Lukas could only identify as happiness. 'You went all the way to another country, to free someone whom you have never met in your life and brought him back home to be with my brother? You insane, crazy, wonderful man.'

She then sent him a look, and Lukas knew that she was going to ask that same question, the fourth time Lukas had heard it since he had gone to meet with Tino in the prison. He was ready to answer it, but at the same time, there were butterflies in his stomach. He licked his lips and fiddled with his fingers as he gazed deeply into Maren's puzzled face, watching as her mouth formed the question.

'But why?'

Lukas glanced at the others, coming to a silent agreement with them via a quirk of eyebrows and slight inclinations of heads. It was time to tell Maren the plan. He gently squeezed her hands in his and stared deeply into her eyes.

'Perhaps we better sit down, dear.'

As everyone found themselves a seat in the drawing room—Genevieve, Tino and Berwald on the couch, and Lukas on the arm of the chair Maren had sunk into—Maren gazed curiously at them all, but mostly at Lukas. Swallowing, Lukas steeled himself, banished his nerves and smiled tenderly at his love.

'I went to Helsinki to free Tino because I didn't want him and Berwald to have to suffer what you and I are suffering…' he began, 'and also because I have a plan. I thought that if I brought Tino back to England, back to be with Berwald, that I would gain their trust in order for them to help me with something. Then I discovered the situation with your brother and Genevieve, and I thought, "Great, that's another person that can help me," and we've discussed the plan… We've come to a decision: Genevieve, Tino and Sally are going to be key players in all this, considering Berwald and myself are compromised.'

'Compromised? In what, Lukas?' Maren looked a little afraid. 'What have you got planned?'

Deciding to take her hands in his, Lukas squeezed them softly, his eyes going from her smooth hands to her mystified eyes. 'We're getting you out. You _and_ Emil. Hopefully if all goes well, you'll be seeing the back of Hexley in the next couple of months, and you and Emil will be free.'

He felt Maren stiffen under his palms. Her eyes were round once more and they darted to each person in the room.

'You're not serious.'

'I'm dead serious.'

'We're getting you out, Maren,' Berwald told her gently. 'As Lukas said, Hexley knows us both, me because of us being related, and Lukas because they've met, as you've told me. But he doesn't know Tino, Genevieve or Sally. They'll be undetected.'

'Undetected how?' Maren asked. 'I don't understand.'

Tino cleared his throat and clasped his hands together. 'The three of us put in job applications to Hexley manor yesterday. We're awaiting confirmation, but once we've been confirmed, Genevieve will be your lady's maid, I'll be Hexley's new valet and Sally will be working in the kitchens. We'll be your eyes and ears on the inside. If and when Hexley makes any moves on you, we'll record it as evidence and once we have enough, we'll be going straight to the police and lodging it as domestic abuse.'

'I know how uncomfortable you are with the whole dressing and undressing thing,' Genevieve went on in a calm voice when Maren opened her mouth. 'I'm there as a… how do you call it? A disguise, a mirage if you will. It's only an act. So don't worry, all shall be as normal.'

'I'll keep seeing you on Fridays, so that won't change,' Lukas added, delicately stroking Maren's hair. 'If you like, we can come and visit Berwald as well, and get updates that Genevieve and Tino will be giving him.' He tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear. 'You'll be free.'

Maren said nothing at first, gazing at everyone with a stunned expression on her face. Then she said, very quietly, 'You can't seriously be accepting this? Do you know how powerful Hexley is? He'll crush you the minute you report anything to the police!'

'Which is why we're going to be doing this over the course of a few months,' Tino said to matter-of-factly. 'It's gonna take a while, but we'll get there. Hexley doesn't know of me or Genevieve—he won't be able to trace us back to Berwald or to Lukas. Sally as well—she'll be going under a different name just like the both of us.' His eyes darkened and his mouth went into a thin line. 'If he tries to hurt you to the point of oblivion, we'll step in and do something—'

' _No!_ '

Looks of shock were thrown Maren's way at her outburst. She looked panicked, her eyes blown wide and fingers trembling in her lap. She shot Lukas a brief glance before transferring it to the three sitting in front of her. She breathed in deeply and whispered, making the others hang onto her every word.

'No. Since you're doing this—and I know that I can't say no, considering how invested you are in this already—I have a couple of conditions. If you're going to blend in with the rest of the staff, you do not talk to me. You don't step in when he's hurting me. You don't engage with me unless you really must. If Hexley, his mother or any of the staff suspect that you're helping me, you'll be kicked out and I don't want to know or think about what they may do to you as a result. You have to remain loyal to him. You can't give yourselves away, do you understand? No matter how… badly he hurts me, or however loud I'm screaming, _you do not step in_. You believe the stories the staff tell you, pretend that you loathe me and that I deserve everything that's coming to me.'

Lukas' heart broke. Glancing at the others, their expressions spelt everything he felt. Their faces were as if someone had slapped them, and Lukas certainly felt as if he had been slapped. It hurt him that this was the extent to which their power in the Hexley manor was of any worth, but Maren was right. They had to do everything by the book, otherwise it would have all been for nothing. They needed to get Maren and her son out no matter what, even if it meant following the rules set by the Hexley family.

'Maren…' Genevieve sniffed, on the verge of tears. 'There must be _something_ we can do on the inside that will prevent him from laying his hands on you.'

'I'm afraid there isn't.' Maren smiled wryly at her. 'The staff will come onto you like vultures if they so much as sniff a hint of loyalty towards me. I am the enemy in that house. So treat me like one.'

No one said anything more on the subject after that. They delved into conversation amongst themselves, mostly with Berwald and Maren catching up in person and Maren getting to know Tino and Genevieve. Lukas and Maren left the house that day in high spirits, and the gratitude Maren had shown everyone upon their departure was enough to tell Lukas that they were doing the right thing.

Maren and Emil were going to be free.

 **.**

 _August_

 **.**

The summer was nearing its end, but the heat was lingering just a little longer in London. But while the summer was coming to a close, Lukas' plan was not.

Over the past month, Genevieve, Tino and Sally had been working under Hexley manor's roof. The stories the three had brought back to Berwald's whenever they had the chance to visit made both his and Lukas' bloods boil in outrage. During that month, Lukas had found out more from Genevieve, Sally and Tino than what Maren had told him since March. He understood that Maren could only stomach to tell him the surface of what was happening to her in that house, but at the same, he wished he had known the facts sooner.

Whenever Hexley wasn't using his hands to beat Maren black and blue, he pinned her against a wall and touched her everywhere openly. He also yelled such awful slurs at her that Genevieve found it very hard not to openly cry for her, and Tino found it extremely difficult not to do something to Hexley for every single thing he did to her. Hexley's mother would simply stand by and watch her son treat his wife terribly, making comments about how it was her duty to serve the Hexley household and family name, not having a single care for Maren's wellbeing. The household staff were not much better. They treated Maren like she was the scum of the earth, pointing their noses to the sky whenever they were in her presence, and the nurse who took care of Emil would especially remark loudly about how Maren was a terrible mother and wife.

But the three had managed to keep their acts up.

Lukas had still seen Maren every Friday, and when they were together, he hadn't brought up anything the others had told him or Berwald. She had started to bring her sketchbook to each meeting, and Lukas had kept his promise of bringing his own little notebook of his works. He had been highly embarrassed when she had begun to read them, commenting on how lovely his writing was as she went along. When she had landed on the most recent poem he had written, Maren had frozen when her eyes had landed on the title. Lukas had told her that he had written it a couple of weeks ago, while he had been in Helsinki and when he had been missing her the most.

The title had been _Maren._

The pair had visited Berwald twice during the month, and after they had visited Berwald the second time, Maren had told Lukas whether or not it was wise to call the whole thing off. She had mentioned to him that Hexley had become suspicious over her sudden taking of a lady's maid—especially given her issues with having anyone come near her when getting dressed—and he was suspicious of Tino as well, for whatever reason. Lukas had reassured her to keep going, they were so close, and Maren had dropped the subject after having had several arguments with him after that visit.

He knew that she was afraid of being caught. But Lukas had faith in Genevieve, Tino and Sally, and he had faith in Maren, if in no one else. He was determined to see the whole thing through. Maren and Emil _were_ getting out of that house.

Out of the three, only Sally had remained undetected thus far. At least, that was the case that Hexley manor—her absence at Björnstad House hadn't gone unnoticed by Lady Bondevik. His answer upon her asking where Sally had gone had been that she had received news of a family issue out of the city and had had to go immediately in order to sort it out. She hadn't believed him at first, but had finally accepted the story after a couple of days.

One day during the last few weeks of August, Lukas was at Berwald's. They had become close over the past month, and Lukas had been grateful for his company. He had learnt a fair bit about the man, and he thanked his lucky stars that Maren had him as a brother—he was so understanding and just as determined as Lukas that he couldn't have asked for anyone better to keep him sane throughout the lengthy months to come. That Thursday afternoon, the pair were waiting for the next lot of news to come their way.

Lukas was feeling restless for some reason; he couldn't keep still, so he walked around the room to get his energy out and put to good use. It wasn't long until the door of the drawing room opened and in came Genevieve. Looking at her, Lukas saw that she was close to tears, and that alone made everything in his body stop functioning.

 _Is Maren okay? Is she hurt? Did Hexley do something much worse to her this time?_

Berwald greeted his wife and told her to sit down, sitting down himself. Lukas joined them and waited with bated breath to hear the latest, and to make sure that his thoughts were untrue. Genevieve's good-natured face was tight with disapproval, and her gloved hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

'God, I hope we can do something soon,' she told them sternly, her brow furrowed. 'Hexley is such a monster and the staff are just cruel! I found one of the maids this morning putting _itching powder_ in Maren's clothes! It took me half the day just washing them all and now my hands are all red from scratching them!' She ripped off her gloves and showed them both the reddened, patched skin of the backs of her hands. 'Tino is beside himself with worry— _I'm_ worried he's going to act upon his anger one of these days and do something to Hexley. Would you believe that the monster forced himself on Maren again last night?' Genevieve let out something close to a sob. 'Poor thing was screaming at him to leave her alone for _hours._ I don't want to think about it…'

She let out a bitter laugh and after the words sunk in, Lukas was in two minds to get himself over to Hexley manor, whisk Maren and Emil away and beat Hexley up to the point of unrecognition. Unfortunately, Lukas couldn't act on his emotions, for if he did, everything they had worked so hard to achieve would be ruined, and Genevieve was not finished.

'He's a bloody hypocrite… The reason he forced himself on her was because he wants another son! He doesn't interact with Emil at all… He refuses to let her see her own child and he, himself, doesn't see him at all! Some father…'

'I understand your anger, Genevieve,' Lukas whispered, 'but be careful.'

She sighed heavily. 'I know. I hate it, but I know. How much longer does this need to go for? How many more beatings? Rapes? Other horrible things? It's been nearly a full month!'

'Until we have enough evidence,' Berwald muttered distastefully. 'The police and the court are not going to rely on mere talk, Genevieve, nor are they simply going to make a case because a woman is being "disobedient" to her husband. It's sad that our society is like this, but it's going to take a lot of hard evidence to make something of this, something that we can physically show. I hate to say this, but the only way they're going to believe us is if something horrible happens to Maren, and I mean _horrible._ '

Lukas gaped at him. 'What the hell do you mean?'

Berwald glanced at him. 'If he tries to kill her, for example. Or if he beats her to the point of unconsciousness—something that will bring in a third party, be that an officer or a doctor, someone who can see the damage and provide a testimony in court.'

He didn't like it, but Lukas knew that Berwald was right. He had known it from the beginning… but he had hoped that it wouldn't have had to come to that. Lukas could see that Genevieve didn't like it either with the way her expression turned into one of despair, but what were they to do other than what they were already doing? They had to play it by ear after all. One wrong move and it all would have been for nothing.

Genevieve chose to stand up, and the men followed her example. 'I better get back before they notice I'm gone. Tino will fill you in next week… I can't bear to give you the details.'

'It's alright, Genevieve,' Lukas told her gently, squeezing her shoulder. 'We understand.'

She gave them a forced smile and a hug before leaving, shutting the door with a soft click. Lukas ran his hands over his face and sighed into them. He hated hearing how Maren was being treated, but he thanked god for the small miracles that were Tino, Genevieve and Sally.

'You seeing Maren tomorrow?' Berwald asked him then, drawing him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head from his hands and nodded. 'Don't bring her here. There are people coming over and I don't want them to get suspicious or to get ideas—or worse, report to Hexley.'

Lukas frowned. 'What kind of people?'

Berwald grunted in annoyance. 'God if I know. They want to see the house for whatever reason, but I want to play it safe. Just in case…'

'Noted.' Lukas huffed loudly and angrily. 'God, I want to kill him.'

'You and me both.' Lukas watched as Berwald's eyes flashed behind his glasses and as his hands clenched into fists against his thighs. 'How dare he hurt my sister? I'll give him something to remember once we get her out of there.'

'Likewise,' Lukas muttered, glaring at a spot on the floor. 'He won't know what's coming.'

Nothing more was said. Lukas left the house an hour later with a half-hearted farewell and began making his way home. He wondered what he was going to do with Maren tomorrow. He found himself wanting to surprise her with something, but then remembered that it was safer if they weren't seen together in public. Taking her to see Berwald was risky enough as it was. Sighing heavily, Lukas tried to rack his brain for something to do…

 **.**

At noon the next day, Lukas watched as Maren came towards him and forced a smile at the sight of her. Genevieve's words from yesterday had been replaying in his head all night and day, haunting his dreams, and he had been afraid to see just how badly in shape Maren was. But she seemed to look fine, and when they entered the house, he let himself be overwhelmed by her presence. As soon as the door had shut, Maren leant forward to kiss him. Her kisses were softer than usual—not that Lukas minded for he loved kissing Maren in every shape and form, not that he would ever admit it aloud—and her touch more delicate, as her fingers merely grazed the lines of his jaw. It was the kind of touch that left Lukas wanting more.

'Hello, darling,' Maren greeted, taking his hand in hers.

Lukas kissed her again and then mumbled into her neck, 'Hello.'

She laughed quietly, and the sound made Lukas feel a little bit better.

After taking off their shoes, they made their way through the house. Lukas went in the direction of the kitchen, ready to resume the creative activities they had been indulging in the past couple of weeks, only to be pulled back by Maren. He looked at her curiously and she smiled at him.

'Not today, Lukas,' she said. 'I just want to relax with you today.'

She started steering him towards the bedroom. They lay down on the bed without a word, cuddling close to each other as if it was their second nature. Lukas allowed himself to close his eyes and to take in the smell of her hair as she made herself comfortable against his side. They were silent for a moment, and Maren wrapped her arm around Lukas' waist and nuzzled her cheek into his neck. Lukas had always loved the intimacy he shared with her, and he felt privileged to be able to be anywhere near such a beautiful creature as her, despite the circumstances they were currently in. All the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind seemed to dissolve just by her being there. Still with his eyes closed, Lukas stroked the arm that was around his waist with his fingertips. He could hear Maren's breathing, and the sound and the warmth pressed up against him was just enough to make him want to fall asleep…

'Lukas?'

He hummed in response.

'May I ask you a question? It's a bit personal, but… I would like to know. It's been on my mind for a bit.'

He hummed again, eyes still closed and fingers still drawing patterns on Maren's arm.

'Have you… um…' Lukas heard her hesitate for a second longer. 'Have you ever made love, Lukas?'

Lukas' eyes flew open at the question. He turned his head to look down at her and saw that a sheepish expression had formed itself on her face. He had not been expecting that question to fly out of her mouth.

'Why do you ask?'

'Just curious…' she mumbled and Lukas frowned. He knew it was more than that, but he didn't push her.

'Not exactly,' he answered softly, closing his eyes again and going back to tracing her arm. 'I haven't made love with anyone but… I have slept with other people. Not Sally, before you say anything,' he added quickly and he felt Maren laugh softly against him.

'I wasn't going to,' she replied, snuggling closer—if such an act was already possible—and pressed her lips to his throat. 'May I ask who? It's obvious that Hexley has been the only person that I've been… you know… and the kitchen maid back in the day.'

Lukas glanced down at the top of her head. 'You slept with the kitchen maid?'

'Yes I did.' He felt Maren smile against his skin. 'It was _great_. Too bad I never saw her again. She got dismissed during the war—god knows why. But it was quick and very clumsy—neither of us were very experienced, but _god_ did she know how to use her fingers. But don't change the subject, Lukas.'

He swallowed. He wondered where Maren was going with this…

'It was about six months after you left,' he told her slowly, thinking deeply before speaking as he tried to dig the memory out of his mind. 'There was a boy there, a little older than me, French. Said he didn't want to die a virgin.' Lukas laughed emptily. 'He told me I was cute. So I thought, "What the hell, make the guy happy." So yeah, we had sex together. Painful at first, but enjoyable nonetheless. But that was sex, not making love—so to answer your question, no, and I've never slept with a woman.'

Maren lifted her head up at that and stared at Lukas in confusion. 'Never?'

'Never.'

'But…' Maren let out a short sound. 'What about that French woman?'

Lukas blinked blankly at her. 'French woman?'

'At the inn… in Amiens…' Maren sent him a look. 'The one who took you upstairs?'

His blood went cold. He had forgotten about his little moment with Marie, and the guilt he had felt that night came rushing back. Lukas hadn't realised that Maren had seen them going up, nor did he realise that she had gotten upset over it. The guilt returned tenfold and he sighed deeply. The truth had to come out, because nothing had happened with Marie—at least, not what Maren was thinking.

'Marie was a mistake,' Lukas whispered, shifting in order to gaze deeply into Maren's eyes. 'Nothing happened between us, I promise. I was so sure I had ruined our friendship by confessing to you that I wanted to forget it had ever happened. At least that's what I felt subconsciously—I didn't go with Marie asking for sex or anything of the like explicitly… nor was I aware that I was doing it implicitly. Marie was looking for something more, that was obvious, but I was too blind to see it straightaway. It was only a kiss, nothing more. I regretted it immediately… I felt as if I betrayed you. I still do…'

Maren stared at him. 'So… you didn't—?'

'No.' He shot her a stern look. 'I promise you that.'

She blew out a long breath. 'And here I was, this whole time, thinking you had gone upstairs with her to sleep with her.'

'I almost did, I admit…' Lukas bit his lip. 'But as soon as I realised what I was doing… how much I would hurt you in the process, and how much I was lying to myself, I stopped. I ran out of that place like it was made of fire.' He looked at Maren and cupped her cheek in his palm. 'I'm sorry for giving you the wrong idea.'

Sending him a small smile, Maren returned to her spot in between Lukas' neck and shoulder. Lukas was pondering if Maren had brought up the topic to confirm his tryst with Marie. Looking back upon it now, Lukas felt very foolish for his actions.

There was a moment's pause before Maren spoke again. 'I took it the wrong way… I'm sorry for doubting you. I just… wondered what it's like to be made love to… Must be nice. I thought you might have known, considering the French woman. But as it stands… we're alike.'

'Indeed…'

Another moment later, Maren surprised Lukas when she sat up and gazed at him seriously. Puzzled by her sudden urgency, Lukas sat up as well, taking her hands in his and raising an eyebrow in silent query. Her eyes darted all over the place, not once landing on his face, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She glanced at him once, twice, then three times before she opened her mouth, closed it, then growled out in annoyance.

'I…' She laughed briefly. 'You'll think me mad for this, but I want to ask you something… again.'

Lukas squeezed her hands. That act alone made her relax under Lukas' palms.

'Forgive me for being forward, but I need to say this.' She sucked in a breath. 'Lukas, I… I want us to… I want us to be each other's firsts.'

Whatever Lukas had been expecting to hear, it hadn't been that. His eyes widened and he saw Maren's hopeful expression falter. _Is she… is she saying what I think she's saying?_

'I know you think me nuts,' she went on quickly, 'but hear me out. I'm _petrified_ of Hexley. Utterly terrified of the man, and whenever he comes anywhere near me, I want to cry and scream and run away. The mere thought makes me sick. Ever since that first night he lay with me, I vowed to myself that I would never lay with another person. I thought I was forever scarred.

'But then I realised something. That something involved you, Lukas. You make me feel safe. Whenever I'm with you, I want to _do_ things with you. What normal couples do, you know? I thought myself an idiot when the idea of being intimate with you came into my mind, especially considering everything I've been through with Hexley.

'But see, Lukas, that's the thing. I don't want to run away anymore.' Her eyes flashed with determination, a kind that made Lukas freeze on the spot and hone his hearing in order to catch every detail. 'I don't want to be afraid of this. I… I want to try and be brave, for once in my life. I trust you with my entire being. You proved yourself worth of it a long time ago. I haven't been ready, but I think I'm starting to become so… and—and I want to know if you're on board with this.'

Lukas didn't know what to say at first. He merely gaped at his love, unable to believe his ears.

'Are… are you sure, Maren?' he asked her, shaking his head in alarm.

'Yes.' She nodded several times, as if to reassure herself more so than Lukas. 'I am very sure. I trust no one more than you, and… I want this, Lukas. I want _you_ … and I want to at least try, if nothing else.'

His mind was racing. Lukas licked his lips and sighed several times before saying, 'I will help you in any way I can… But Maren… I want you to know something before we do anything, yes?'

Maren nodded, blinking owlishly at him. It was a huge thing that Maren wanted to do, and by god, Lukas wasn't one to tell her no. He wanted that kind of intimacy with her as well… but he was worried. He had seen the effect Hexley's and her family's abuse had taken upon her the past couple of years. He knew that this was something that couldn't be cured in the space of a month. Hell, Lukas was still recovering from the _years_ of warfare, loss and horror he had been through on the frontline. While his nightmare was had ended, Maren was still living hers, and every day at that. But he could see that she really wanted to do this, so he wanted to make one thing very clear.

He brought their joined hands into his lap. 'I can see that you're resolute to attempt this. I want to lay this on the table before we try anything. This… this isn't something that can be easily overcome, especially for you, I know that. So… what I'm trying to say is this: don't feel as if you have to force yourself. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, you tell me and we'll stop straightaway. If you find yourself unable to go through with it, tell me and we'll stop. We go at your own pace… Please know that. I don't want you to get hurt.'

The air went still. Maren gawked at him and she slowly started to shake her head. When Lukas gave her a bemused expression, she sighed and removed her hands from his.

'I… I don't understand it half the time, you know?' When Lukas remained blank, she went on to say, 'Why you chose me. I'm a broken piece of nothing. I'm married, I'm a mother, I'm a hopeless case… and yet, you're still here. You're _still here_ , telling me I'm beautiful when I'm not, loving me when you could be loving someone else… and now you go and tell me this? Lukas, I just _don't_ understand. There are so many other people out there whom you can love, and who could love you back, who you can actually live with, do things with—not hide behind four walls! Why, _why_ are you wasting your time on me?'

Lukas blinked. _Where did all of this come from? Maren, you're… darling, you're_ wrong _._ Unable to find his voice, Lukas leant forward and kissed Maren powerfully, so much they fell into the pillows, Maren with a squeal. Pulling apart, Lukas smoothed her cheeks and then kissed her again, just as strongly, grinning inwardly when she kissed him back with the same vigour.

'You want to know why?' he whispered, staring at her intensely when they parted again. 'I'll tell you why. Because there is no other woman or person whom I feel more love for than you. Get that into your head, Maren—I _love_ you. I love you more than I can ever tell you or show you—hell, even write for you! But, by god, do I love you. You… You're on my mind constantly and you make me feel things I've never felt before in my life. Everything you've said about yourself—you're wrong.' He held her face in his palms, treating her as if she was made of glass. 'You're enticing. You're everything. You _are_ beautiful—your scars and bruises, everything that you hate about yourself, I love. You're perfect to me in every way, and don't you forget it.'

He kissed her again, harder than before, and he felt her sigh against his lips, her fingers trembling in his hair as they raked through it. But Lukas wasn't done.

'You are not a waste of my time. Never. There is no one else I'd rather be with, Maren… You are my _everything._ ' He rested their foreheads together. 'And _god_ … I want to make love to you, I do. But above all that, I want you to feel safe. I want you to know that you are safe with me no matter what we do or what happens in our lives. I want to you to feel loved, because you are loved, especially by me. I can't live without you.'

Lukas' voice cracked at the end, too overwhelmed with emotion to continue. But that was all it took for Maren to burst into tears. She was smiling, laughing and crying all at once. She took Lukas' cheeks and brought him forward into a bruising kiss, kissing him thoroughly, lovingly, and Lukas returned the emotions tenfold. It was not often that Lukas put his heart on his sleeve, but today was the day he decided to let himself go. Maren needed to know how much he loved her, despite his love for her being beyond words. He let himself be kissed over and over again by Maren, his heart in his throat and his lungs constricting behind his ribcage.

God… if a bullet didn't kill him on the front, he was sure his love for Maren would.

'Lukas…' They parted and Maren gazed up at him with glassy eyes. 'I don't know what to say…'

'You don't have to say anything, my love,' Lukas told her firmly, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. 'Just know that I mean everything I say, and that it's all true. Please remember that, my darling.'

She laughed, nodding, and Lukas smiled fondly at her, kissing her pretty lips once more. Then she sat up once again, taking Lukas with her, and said boldly, 'Very well. I will remember those words forever. But Lukas… I don't want to wait. I want to do this now, but not here.'

Lukas spluttered as Maren got up from the bed and pulled him to his feet. She smiled something fierce and Lukas felt his face growing red when she leant forward and whispered in his ear. He gaped at her in shock, then smiled like he had never smiled before.

They ran out of that house, their destination being Lukas' bedroom at the Bondevik manor. They ran through the streets, up the stairs to the front door, up the large staircase to the upper floor—once Lukas had checked that there was no one around, and there shouldn't have been as his parents were out in town for the whole day and wouldn't be returning until late in the evening—and into Lukas' bedroom. He shut the door behind them, locked it shut and turned to face Maren.

She was huffing and puffing, her chest rising and falling rapidly. They stared at each other for a few moments, simply standing there. Then, in a single, unblinking move, they rushed to each other and kissed each other so passionately Lukas saw stars. He was shaking, but he was ready.

He was going to show Maren what it was like to be made love to.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

Lukas woke up to the feeling of long, gentle fingers going through his hair. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he shifted around, rustling the sheets that were draped over him. He edged closer, blindly pressing his lips to searing, bare skin, opening his eyes to take in thousands of tiny freckles against paleness. His wandering lips landed on a white, round scar near a shoulder, just underneath a collarbone. A strong, steady heartbeat thrummed in his ear, and the rise and fall of soft breathing lulled him further into a relaxed state.

His hand smoothed over the lace neckline of Maren's underdress, his fingertips tracing up towards her jawline. Lukas nuzzled his cheek further into Maren's shoulder, smiling against the skin when he felt Maren's head move in order to kiss his dancing fingers. He glanced up at her and found himself lost in the shimmering blue that stared back at him.

'How do you feel?'

She grinned, then kissed him for the millionth time that afternoon. 'A little embarrassed, but… I feel loved.'

'Good, because you are loved, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about,' was Lukas' reply before silence fell upon them.

Despite Maren's wish to see through her plan, they did not make love that afternoon. When they had started to shed themselves of their clothes, Maren had broken out into a full blown panic attack. She had underestimated her body's memory of all the abuse it had gone through the past three years, and Lukas had spent an hour trying to get her breathing back to normal from the shortness it had become, whispering words of comfort and reassurance throughout it. Maren had apologised for her weakness once she had calmed down, which Lukas shut down immediately, reminding her harshly of what had been said back in their little hideaway. But still she apologised, in spite of Lukas telling her there was nothing to apologise for.

But still, even then, she was determined to see the whole thing through. Lukas had firmly denied it, and she had gotten upset over her lack of confidence. 'I want this with you, Lukas! Some lover I am… can't be intimate with the love of my life without crying!' she had exclaimed irritably. But that had given Lukas an idea, and he had told her that yes, they could be intimate in another way. He had suggested they strip down to their undergarments—only if Maren was comfortable with such a gesture—and could spend the rest of the afternoon curled into each other instead.

Maren had agreed instantly, and with shaking hands, had taken off her clothes until she was only in her underdress. Lukas had followed suit, stripping down to just his underwear and undershirt, feeling rather self-conscious for the first time in a very long while. They hadn't wasted any more time before they had hopped into Lukas' bed, and the first couple of minutes were spent in a strained silence. They had been stiff next to each other, Lukas in fear of causing Maren to have another panic attack, and Maren in fear of embarrassing herself again. It was only when Lukas had taken a bold move and kissed her gunshot scar did the situation relax. Maren had enveloped Lukas into a strong embrace, kissing him gently and allowing him to come closer. Maren's warmth had sent Lukas into his dreamland, being too comfortable in it to stay awake.

He felt like jelly, but the good kind. The touching of their bare skins made his stomach do flips, and the fact that Maren was comfortable enough to do this with him made him incredibly giddy inside. He was in paradise.

His fingers cupped Maren's cheek and kissed her gently again before they traced back down her neck and collarbones. He stroked the outline of her waist and hips, the smooth material of her underdress against his palm. His hand travelled towards her abdomen, his fingers once again gravitating back to that area of her body. Before he had fallen asleep, Lukas' hand had kept making its way back to that one spot, his fingertips lightly drawing patterns on her abdomen. Caressing the spot delicately, Lukas frowned as he tried to figure out _why_ he was so attracted to this one area of Maren's body. Then it hit him, and he attempted to hide a growing smile.

'Maren.' At her hum, he swallowed. 'Do you think Emil is going to like me?'

'What?' Lukas looked up to see her confused expression. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Well… Once we get you out, I thought that maybe… you'll both come and live with me,' he mumbled, suddenly very shy as his cheeks and neck went red. 'I'm going to love Emil like he's my own son. I just hope he likes me, that's all.'

There was a pregnant pause, and Lukas wondered if he went too far. But then Maren's laugh—filled with so much joy that Lukas got goose bumps—filled the room, and Lukas' face was being conquered by her lips.

'You are so cute!' Maren cooed. 'Of _course_ Emil is going to like you! He's going to love you, Lukas.' She laughed again, softer this time, and caressed Lukas' face with her knuckles. 'Look at you, worrying about whether or not your son is going to like you before you've met him. My, my, you've grown up from that little sixteen year old, haven't you?'

At that, Lukas definitely couldn't stop the smile forming on his face. 'He's my son?'

Maren shimmed down until they were face-to-face, kissing his nose as she turned onto her side. 'Yes. He may be Hexley's son biologically, but as far as I am concerned, he's your son. Why? Because I love no other man than you and because I know you're going to treat him as if he is your biological son. You're not going to neglect him, you're not going to hate him. You're going to take care of him… just like you've been taking care of his mother.' She paused, frowning in deep thought before adding in a whisper, 'And then maybe… maybe we can have our own children one day… once I muster up the courage to be able to do it.'

Lukas' heart soared, and his mouth ran faster than his brain as he blurted out, 'Can we have a little girl? One that looks like you?'

He watched with bated breath—after cursing himself inwardly at his forwardness—as Maren's expression went blank. Then a huge smile graced her mouth and Lukas let out the breath he had been holding.

'We can try. Who knows?' Maren put her hand on top of Lukas', which hadn't moved from its spot on her stomach. 'With the way things are going, you and I might be together sooner than we think. There would be nothing to stop us trying for her.'

'Can't wait until she gets here,' Lukas told her wistfully. 'Can't wait until you and Emil get here.'

Maren kissed him softly. 'Neither can I.'

Lukas allowed himself to gaze openly into Maren's eyes, and his hand didn't move from its position for several moments. The thought of them having their own child one day made him realise one thing: there was no one else out there for him other than this goddess who was lying beside him, with her golden hair pooling over her head onto the pillow and her long eyelashes casting shadows on the tops of her cheeks.

'Have you seen him lately?' At her frown, he added, 'Emil. Have you seen him?'

She shook her head. 'I'm afraid not. The nurse has been around him all hours of the day and night. Haven't had the chance to go in and see him discreetly.'

He gazed at her sadly. Then, supporting himself on an elbow, Lukas gently moved Maren so that she was on her back, and she blinked at him bemusedly before her eyes slid shut as Lukas bent down to kiss her forehead. But his lips didn't stop there. They travelled down her face, leaving behind a wordless 'I love you' with each kiss, be it upon her nose, her cheeks, her mouth or jawline. His nose brushed the long curve of her neck and shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on the bare skin there. Her smell hit his nose full force, and Lukas felt Maren's hands settle at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. She was honestly the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, and he felt terribly happy of the fact that Maren trusted him enough to let him see her as she was then, only in an underdress and hair fanned out behind her.

She brought him back up from where he had been at her throat, kissing him over and over again on his mouth, her hands cupping his face before her arms wound around his neck. Lukas shifted his position so that he was sitting up, but still hovering over her form in order to kiss her deeply. She sighed into his mouth, raking her nails through his hair and over his ears.

'What did I ever do…' she whispered between kisses, moving to sit up as well, 'to deserve a kind-hearted man as you?'

'And what did I ever do to deserve a beautiful and amazing woman as you?' Lukas countered, smiling as she, too, smiled at him.

They parted and rested their foreheads together. Their hands found each other's and fingers intertwined. Lukas simply breathed out slowly and let their moment linger for just a little longer. Then Maren moved away, a serious expression suddenly overtaking her features.

'Lukas?'

'Yes, my love?'

Biting her lip, Maren's eyes flickered over Lukas' face, and Lukas arched a curious eyebrow at her actions.

'I've been curious… since you told me about it,' she said slowly, gauging Lukas' reaction. 'But… may I see your scar, Lukas? If you want me to?'

Lukas was surprised, and then a wave of self-consciousness came over him. No one had seen his scar, not since the nurses and doctors on the frontline hospital weeks after he had received the wound. It was a constant reminder of his time in the war, no matter how hard he tried to forget about it. Licking his drying lips, he slowly started to lift his undershirt up, for if he couldn't trust Maren enough to see it, then he could trust no one in his life. He averted his gaze as he heard Maren's breath hitch and flinched when her fingers hit his skin.

Suddenly, his back met the bed and his heart caught in his throat when he saw Maren's head lower itself to his stomach. Her lips were warm against his skin, her breath hot, and she lovingly kissed the jagged, pink flesh, starting from his hip and heading towards his ribcage. She was gentle in her gesture, and her hands sought his, curling around them as she left whispers of touch on him. He knew what she was doing by this, and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. _It's all over,_ she told him, _I'm here, and you're safe with me. I love you, and you're so brave._

Maren then lay her head on his chest, making herself comfortable there, and let out a deep sigh.

'" _How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,_ "' Maren whispered, squeezing Lukas' hands. ' _"I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace."_ '

'Is that Shakespeare?' Lukas asked, frowning as to where he had heard the lines before.

Maren laughed. 'No. _"I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith."'_ She looked up at him expectantly. 'Any more guesses, my love?'

Lukas thought deeply. He _knew_ these lines, but he couldn't remember the author of them for the live of him. He tried again with Arnold, and Maren shook her head against him.

' _"_ _I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."'_

'Ah!' He grinned. 'Dear old Elizabeth.'

She smiled smugly at him. 'Correct, Mister Bondevik. Your bookish knowledge does not fail you yet.'

Lukas chuckled. 'My knowledge does not extend to poetry, I'm afraid, Miss Køhler.' He lifted a hand and buried his fingers in Maren's hair. 'Only my own, and even so, I've got quite a bit to learn before I am as any bit as romantic as Miss Browning.'

'Oh, you little liar, Lukas.' Maren moved upwards and kissed him. 'What do you call those poems you wrote for me, hm? They are by far the most romantic things I've read in a very long time.'

Face flushing, Lukas looked away from Maren's adoring face. 'They're only experimental… I have a long way to go yet—'

Maren shut him up with a bruising kiss, one that made all sense fly out the window. 'Stop doubting yourself,' she told him sternly. 'You're far better than you make yourself out to be.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'That goes for yourself as well, Maren.'

She merely smiled and looked towards the corner of the room, no doubt trying to find the clock for the time. Lukas took in her neck and kissed her throat, grinning against it when she giggled at the touch. Browning's poem rang in his ears, and he only wished that one day, he would be able to profess his love for Maren in the same way. Despite her praise, Lukas' poems for Maren were mediocre, at best, and he had often struggled to find the right words to display his affections for her.

 _One day I will be able to. Hopefully she knows already what she means to me, because, by god, do I love her so…_

'Ah, so that's where you keep it!'

Glancing at her in confusion, Lukas followed her line of sight and saw her looking at his bedside table. Upon its glistening surface was his swan. Maren picked it up from its place, tucked her head under Lukas' chin and stroked its dainty head.

'I keep it there,' Lukas began, 'because the last thing I want to see before I go to sleep and when I wake up every morning is you. There are days where I still can't believe that you're in my life, that you love me and want me to be with you, so I keep that swan there to remind me that this… this is all real. That our love is real. Sadly, it's not the real you, but its purpose of being you has been served well.'

'Oh, Lukas…' Maren put the swan back on the bedside table and moved to hover over him. 'You really are a romantic. But fear not, my love… soon, you'll be waking up to this face every morning.'

Lukas smiled broadly and closed the gap between them with another kiss. 'Time better hurry up, then. I don't know how much longer I can spare to be with my loneliness.'

 **.**

Another hour passed them by. They had fallen into a silence by that point, simply relishing each other's embrace, and it had only been broken once when Maren had asked if they were going to visit Berwald that day, to which Lukas told her of the circumstances.

The time for departure came far too soon, in Lukas' eyes. He didn't want Maren to go, but he was disappointed in the fact that they both knew she had to. They peeled themselves apart and moved to get dressed. Picking up item after item of clothing from the floor, the pair exchanged an odd kiss here and there, tucking shirt into pants and buttoning button after button. Maren put her hair back into its former do—after much effort—and was still doing up her dress as they started to leave Lukas' bedroom and make their way down the stairs. She had just fixed the last button when they made it to the bottom, and Lukas had put the last strand of wayward hair back in its place.

Checking that there was no one about, Lukas leant forward and brushed their lips together, feeling the adrenaline rushing in.

'Stay safe,' he told her, 'and I'll see you next Friday.'

Maren grinned. 'I will try. I'll see you then.'

Kissing again one more time, Maren turned to leave. But Lukas wasn't ready for her to leave just yet, so he stopped her by calling out her name. When she turned back around, Lukas smiled fondly at her and whispered, 'I love you.'

That was all it took for Maren to come rushing back to him in order to kiss Lukas passionately, tenderly and thoroughly before pulling away and saying back to him, 'And I love you. God, yes, I do.' She smiled hugely. 'Soon we'll be together. We will, and you won't have to rely on your swan for company anymore.'

'I'll hold you to that,' Lukas replied.

They kissed once more before Maren gave him a quick farewell and bolted out the door of the Bondevik manor. But even her hasty departure couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Lukas was unbelievably happy, and he prayed that Maren and Emil would be with him soon.

But it took one call of his name to make that smile vanish and for his blood to form to ice. He turned his head to where the voice had come from and saw Lord Bondevik step out of the shadows. His presence shocked him.

'Father.' Lukas looked at the grandfather clock and frowned when he saw the time. 'I thought you and Mother were out?'

'She still is,' his father said to him. 'I came home early—wasn't feeling as good as I originally thought.' His eyes flashed and Lukas gulped nervously. 'May I have a word?'

 _Shit, he saw us didn't he? Oh fuck, he saw us! Just my bloody luck._

'Of course.'

Lord Bondevik turned to head towards a nearby drawing room and Lukas followed him, his mouth drying along the way. _This is it,_ he thought. _We're doomed. It's all been for nothing. My worst nightmare is coming true._ He kicked himself mentally. _What possessed you to think that coming here was a good idea? Shit, shit, shit, shit!_ Upon reaching the drawing room, Lukas' father stepped aside to let his son inside first and, when they had sat down comfortably, he didn't hesitate to beat about the bush.

'What was that with Lady Hexley, Lukas?'

 _SHIT._

'Uh…'

'You do realise she's a married woman?' Lord Bondevik went on, his voice stern and disapproving.

Lukas sighed. 'Yes, I know she is—'

'Do you have any idea of the trouble you're both to get into if you're caught?' his father interrupted. 'For god's sake, Lukas, you hardly know her! She's married to the biggest horror in the country, yes I am aware, but you've only met once!'

Not wanting to hear a lecture, Lukas said as bluntly as he could, 'That's where you're wrong. I've known her since before she was married.'

There was a stunned pause—or at least, on Lord Bondevik's behalf. Then he frowned and said in a low voice, pointing a finger at his son, 'Explain yourself, Lukas, and pray I don't tell your mother about this.'

Lukas couldn't believe his luck. He knew that their afternoon was too good to be true. Now there was his father, demanding an explanation, after he had just had a lovely afternoon with his beloved. Lukas knew he couldn't back out of it, so he threw up his hands and told him everything. He told his father how he and Maren had met on the front, and how she had disguised herself as a man—only to explain how that was the reason she had been punished by her family in form of being married off to Hexley. Then he told him everything that had happened since Lukas had come home, about him meeting up with Maren every Friday and of the plan to get her and Emil out of the house for good. Needless to say, by the time he had finished, the shock on his father's face was understandable.

'Good god, Lukas…' He shook his head incredulously. 'What have you gotten yourself involved in?'

Lukas merely shrugged. 'I'm saving the love of my life, that's what I've gotten into,' he said nonchalantly. 'I regret nothing in doing so. I love her.'

Lord Bondevik simply sighed. 'You're playing a dangerous game, son.'

'I'm aware.'

'What if you get caught?' his father queried then. 'What if you fail?'

'We won't.' Lukas stared his father down, unable to believe that this was the question he had to answer. 'We won't. We will succeed. I know we will.'

His father let out a short breath and raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'You better hope you do.'

Lukas glared at him, not at all happy with his lack of faith. 'We _will_. Also, not a word to Mother, I beg of you.'

Once he made sure that his father wouldn't tell Lady Bondevik anything, Lukas left the drawing room and went back to his bedroom. When he shut the door behind him, he lay down on the crumpled sheets, buried his face into one of the pillows and lost himself in Maren's lingering smell. The conversations they had had that afternoon returned tenfold and he couldn't help the huge grin that formed on his face.

He couldn't wait to meet Emil. He couldn't wait to see her again.

 **.**

A week had passed since Maren had come over to the Bondevik manor. Lukas was waiting, as per usual, outside their little cottage. There was a small smile on his face as he recalled their last meeting, and it widened when he thought about how he was going to see his beautiful Maren very soon. He glanced at his pocket watch and saw that it was almost noon. Soon… soon she would be here and Lukas could spend several hours with her.

He had brought a few things with him that day. Ludwig and Gilbert had written again, the first time in a while, with some very exciting news: Gilbert and Elizabeta were now parents. Elizabeta had given birth to a healthy baby boy around a week ago, and Gilbert was ecstatic over the fact that he was now a father. Ludwig had voiced his concern over his brother's rather overenthusiastic nature, but he had been pleasantly surprised at his gentleness. Johan was the name they had given their son, and Gilbert had asked if he and Maren would like to visit them in Berlin. Lukas had brought the letter to show Maren and get her opinion on the question. He would love to see the Beilschmidt brothers after so many years, and he wanted to meet Gilbert's wife, the woman who had gotten so much praise from the brothers. Lukas had also brought his notebook again, inspiration having struck him not long after Maren had left the previous week.

Hopefully she'd like what he had written. He felt rather proud of himself for what he had achieved.

Noon passed. Lukas glanced down at his watch again and saw that it was at least ten past. But still he waited, occasionally looking down the path to see if she was coming.

Ten past turned into one, and still no sign of Maren. Lukas started to get a little bit worried. _Must be caught up somewhere… I'm sure it's nothing._ So he continued waiting.

It was only when it was half past three that Lukas become severely concerned. _Where the hell is she? Did Hexley do something? Is she hurt?_ He started to panic, so he left the house and made his way to Berwald's. _Perhaps he may know something…_ It took him around ten minutes to get there, and once he did, he knocked so loudly on the front door that the effort showed on the red marks that bloomed over his knuckles. Lukas tried to keep his emotions in check when Mister Smith opened the door and took him in to see Berwald, taking in deep breaths in order to try and remain calm.

He didn't like this. Not at all.

Upon seeing Berwald, Lukas thanked Mister Smith and turned to face his love's brother.

'I apologise for turning up unannounced, but I needed to ask you something.' At Berwald's arched eyebrow, Lukas asked, 'Has Maren been here today?'

Berwald frowned at that. 'No. Why do you ask?'

Lukas discreetly wiped his sweating palms on his thighs. 'She hasn't shown up at all today. It's almost four.'

The concern that graced Berwald's stoic features spelt out to Lukas that there must have been something going on. It didn't sit well in his stomach and he tried to quash every bad scenario that rose up inside his mind. _Don't think the worst… Don't think the worst, I'm sure everything is fine…_

Then he asked, 'What about Tino? Genevieve? Sally?'

Berwald shook his head and Lukas felt the bottom of his stomach drop. His mind gave up trying to stop the bad thoughts from taking over and he felt as if he was going to be sick. _Where are they all? This is not good… Something is not right… Oh god._ Lukas jumped when Berwald came up to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. Gazing up at him, he swallowed thickly.

'I'm sure there must be a good reason,' Berwald said to him lowly, patting his shoulder sympathetically. 'I'm sure it's nothing serious. It's no good to jump to conclusions.'

Lukas nodded in acknowledgement. He certainly hoped it wasn't anything serious…

 **.**

The rest of that week and part of the next was spent in a kind of hollowness. Ludwig's letter had remained unanswered due to the wreck that Lukas' emotions had become. Lukas really did not like not knowing what was going on, and the fact that Maren _as well_ as the others were not getting out of the house in that amount of time scared him. Something was wrong, he could feel it deep within him. He prayed day in and day out that not one of the hundreds of terrible scenarios he had thought up were true. He tried to stay positive throughout it all, thinking that he would definitely see Maren that coming Friday.

He had to… She had to come…

There had to be a perfectly good reason for their absences…

When Friday came along once more, Lukas' nerves were on edge. He was in his usual place by the rose bushes, just a bit before noon. He had had an awful dream the previous night, something to do with Maren being locked in a chamber somewhere… Lukas' heart was jumping away in his chest and he hoped, really, truly hoped, that everything was okay, that his thoughts and dreams were wrong.

Noon passed by. As did one… As did two…

Lukas' hands started to shake. _Where are you, Maren?_

Three went by… Four came and went…

Seeing no other alternative, Lukas turned to go to Berwald's again. Everything he had thought was slowly coming true. He was shattered. Now he definitely knew, most certainly knew, that there was something wrong. When he arrived and asked Berwald the same questions as he had asked him the previous Friday, only to receive the same answers, Lukas became even more terrified.

 _Oh god, what has happened?_ He thought in dread, running his hand over his face. _Did they get caught? Did Hexley find out and do something to them all? God forbid… has he hurt them?_

None of it seemed good.

Lukas thanked Berwald for his time and they promised each other that as soon as they heard something, they would let the other one know. Lukas went home with his heart in his mouth and his mind being plagued with hundreds more awful thoughts. When he got home, his mood must have been so clear on his face that Baxter touched his arm lightly, asking if there was anything he could do to make him feel better. He had been alarmed at the fact that his emotions were on display so much that even _Baxter_ was commenting on it that he didn't answer straightaway.

But then Lukas smiled—utterly fake as it was, but it was the best he could do given the circumstances—and replied with, 'I'll be fine, Baxter. But thank you. I'll let you know if I need anything.'

The rest of the evening was spent in disarray. Lukas was so worked up that he couldn't concentrate on _anything_. He had tried to do some writing to get his mind off things, but he had ended up ripping several pages out in distaste, the floor around him littered with crumpled paper balls. At dinner, he hadn't been able to concentrate on the conversation his parents were trying to get him into, and he had left early, complaining of a headache and needing some time to lie down. He hadn't gone to his bedroom, however, but straight to the library, where he had poured himself a glass of cognac and had slumped into his favourite armchair.

Lukas had thought he had played his part of concealing his true feelings, so he was surprised when Lord Bondevik entered the library around half-past eleven, seeing a good opportunity to talk to his son as his wife had gone to bed. Lukas felt his resolve crumble, for if his father had noticed there was something off with him, then what was the point of hiding anymore?

'Lukas?'

His father sat down in a chair opposite Lukas, concern showing clearly on his face. Lukas downed his glass of cognac and poured himself another, worry lines so deeply etched into his forehead that they caused him to rub his fingertips in an attempt to relieve the budding pain of his crown. Looking at his father Lukas stared at him blankly, not really in the mood to talk. He was so worried about Maren and the others that he physically couldn't do anything but wait. That alone _killed_ him. He felt useless just sitting around, but what exactly could he do? He couldn't ask anyone for help, least of all his parents. He knew that if he had asked his mother to go around to Hexley manor, she would have done it in a heartbeat, given her overt concern for Maren in the past—but his mother didn't know of their situation, let alone everything they had done, and he would prefer to keep it that way for now… He could do without her hysterics, as Lady Bondevik could be very overdramatic when she wanted to be. Not to mention she would ask him countless questions as to why he was suddenly interested in Lady Hexley, of all people.

There was also the other thing… While Lukas had thought about doing it on countless occasions, there was no way he could turn up to the Hexley manor _himself_. He and Hexley had parted on bad terms the first and last time they had met, so for Lukas to show up to his house, unannounced, and with Maren's name on his tongue… It would make the situation even worse than it already was. He couldn't do that to Maren. He couldn't do that to anyone involved. If Hexley so much as sniffed a shred of allegiance from Lukas to his unfortunate wife… Lukas shuddered at the thought.

So what could he do, indeed?

Except, perhaps, talk?

'Yes?'

Lord Bondevik sighed. 'What is the matter? You seem lost…'

Lukas let out a huff. He really didn't want to discuss it, but knowing his father, he didn't have much of a choice. So he explained the situation in a monotone voice, about how he hadn't seen Maren for the past two weeks, and about the lack of visits made by Tino, Genevieve and Sally to him and Berwald since they, too, were nowhere to be seen. He told him about how scared he was and about how he was so afraid that Hexley had done something fatal to them all.

'I honestly don't know what to do, Father…' Lukas drained his second glass of cognac and winced at the burn it provided. He lifted his hands. 'I can't stop shaking. I can't think, I can't sleep, I can't eat—I'm so overcome with worry that it's making me sick. I'm scared that one of these days there's going to be a newspaper article describing four mysterious deaths, and I just—'

'Lukas, enough!'

Halting, Lukas gaped at his father's stern expression. His eyes were steely and he stared at his son, and that alone made Lukas listen as he said, 'You can't know for sure. I am convinced there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. They could have gone overseas for a holiday, or gone out of London somewhere. Don't assume the worst, Lukas. You… you can't know for sure.'

Letting out a breath, Lukas knew he was right. He knew he was overreacting… but there was a sinister aura in the air that he couldn't shake off, and he knew it was related to Maren and the others. He knew, and he was afraid. Lukas ran his hand over his face and tried to get his thoughts in order. His father didn't say anything.

The clock struck midnight, but neither man moved. Another week had gone by, taking the tally of weeks Lukas hadn't seen Maren for to two. The pair continued to stare at each other, Lord Bondevik sadly and Lukas fearfully. If he didn't get answers soon, Lukas was afraid that he might just go insane. Maren was his world, so to not see or hear from her made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

It was after a short moment that Lord Bondevik spoke again.

'I know you're in love with her, Lukas,' he began, his tone soft, 'but… this isn't healthy. Who knows how long it is going to take to get her out of that household?'

Lukas couldn't help the bitter chuckle that was ripped from his throat. 'Father… when you love someone, you go out of your way to make them happy. You do everything you can to _make them safe._ ' He sent his father an intense look. 'That is exactly what I am doing with Maren. For the love of god, she saved my life! Unthinkingly, she put herself in the line of fire and took the bullet that was meant for me—partly because she loves me. I would not be doing that sacrifice justice if I didn't get her out of the situation she's in—and you're forgetting one thing! I'm part of the reason she's in this situation in the first place.

'It would be a disgrace and a betrayal,' he added in a whisper, fisting his hand against his thigh. 'I know it's unhealthy, but I am determined. What kind of a person would I be if I didn't at least try?'

His father merely gazed at him, an expression of sympathy of his face.

 **.**

The two men sat in silence for the next little while. Lukas had poured himself yet another glass of cognac, and one for his father. They drank without so much as a word, sitting by the packed bookshelves. Lukas glanced at the spines and wondered if he could do with a distraction, to put his mind at rest for a little bit. But when he got the first book off the nearest shelf, flipping to the first page, he put it down again, unable to focus on what was coming off the page. He was just too worried.

He asked his father at one point if he wanted to go to bed, but Lord Bondevik simply shook his head. Lukas knew the reason he was staying, of course. He wanted to keep an eye on his son in case he did something stupid. Lukas was both annoyed and grateful at the gesture.

It was when the clock had struck quarter-to-one that movement occurred. There was a loud knock on the library, causing Lukas and his father to jolt in alarm and to gape at the door in surprise. Exchanging a puzzled look with his son, Lord Bondevik called out, 'Enter?' and the two men became wide-eyed as a distressed-looking Baxter came into the room.

'My Lord—Lukas—' Lukas moved to the edge of his seat, setting his empty glass down on the little table between his father and himself. Baxter was pale as a ghost in the dim light of the library: his lips were trembling and he was wringing his hands. 'I'm sorry to interrupt you at such an hour, but—oh god—you're needed downstairs. Her Ladyship insists on your presence.'

The two Bondevik men swapped another look.

'What is going on, Baxter?'

'Please, my Lord… It's best if you see—none of us are quite sure what is going on,' Baxter told him, his voice quaking and his eyes growing rounder in fear by the second. 'It's urgent!'

Not another word was said, and the three made their way downstairs. When they reached the top of the staircase, Lukas realised that he could faintly hear shouting from one of the rooms near the hallway. He couldn't recognise all the voices, but he could pick out his mother's quite clearly and was that…

Lukas felt his blood turn to ice.

 _Is that a_ child _crying?_

All the fear Lukas had felt for those two weeks rushed into his body tenfold, and he hastily followed Baxter down the stairs and through the corridor. The closer they got, the more Lukas heard a woman's voice coming from the end of the hall, sobbing and cracking, screaming desperately, 'Please! Please, don't take my baby away! He can't go back there—please, please, don't take my baby away!'

'My darling, no one is going to take your son away,' Lukas then heard his mother reason. 'We're just going to take him up to the nursery where myself and one of the maids can look after him while we get someone to look at you—'

Something must have happened then for the woman let out a shrill, 'NO!' It shook the walls and Lukas felt his heart thundering in his chest. Just as he glanced over at his father and Baxter, the woman was crying out, her voice cracking, 'Don't take him away—he's _my_ son! No one touches him—you're going to take him away, please, god, don't…'

By the time the three men had reached the end of the hallway, Lukas' nerves were on edge like never before. _What the hell is going on?_ The woman's screaming had turned into loud crying, and Lukas could make his mother out trying to reason with her gently. The child still cried, wailing and howling, and the very sound made Lukas' heart shatter into a million pieces. There was no other sound that was more terrible than the sound of a child crying.

Before they could enter the room, one of the footmen, Thomas, stopped them and said, 'I've called the doctor and the police as instructed, Baxter. They're on their way, although the doctor said he was going to be a little late as he's on call at the moment.'

'Thank you, Thomas,' Baxter told him, voice shaking. 'As long as they both make it here at some point tonight, then it's fine.'

Lukas had enough of being kept in the dark. _Doctor? Police? How serious is this?_

'Why the need for the doctor and the police, Baxter?' Lukas asked him, tone puzzled and apprehensive.

'Because, Lukas,' Baxter replied, gazing at his master firmly, 'the poor woman needs medical attention and the bastard who hurt her and the child needs to be put away _for good._ There is no way we are letting them get away with this.'

Lukas didn't like the sound of that and he sent his father a frantic look. Lord Bondevik's face was blanched and his eyes focused on the door to the room where the action was happening. Getting closer to it, Baxter rushed forward and opened the door—the crying amplifying—and Lukas' father went in first. Lukas heard him mutter, 'Good God in heaven,' before he entered after him.

The sight that he was met with caused Lukas to feel as though his lungs had shrivelled up and stolen his breath.

* * *

 _ **To be continued...**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

Lukas staggered backwards at what was being presented to him, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

Sitting in the chair by the corner, rocking backwards and forwards, was a young woman. In her arms was a little boy, holding onto her dress with tiny fists, his mouth open in a wail and his eyes screwed shut. Lady Bondevik was standing a few feet away from the woman, pleading with her to listen, to let her take her son to safe place upstairs. But the woman simply cried, whimpering and hiccupping. Tears were streaming down both her and her son's faces—as Lukas assumed—but that wasn't what made him freeze at the doorway.

There was blood _everywhere_. It was running down the woman's face from her hairline, her lips were bleeding, there were cuts on her cheeks and hands, some on her neck from what he could see, and there was some blood on the little boy, too: a shallow cut across his forehead. Scarlet stained their clothes, and bruises littered the woman's skin too, or at least the skin that could be seen and that wasn't covered by her dress. The child seemed otherwise unharmed. But even that wasn't the reason why Lukas stood there, unable to speak or think or do anything other than stare in horror.

The woman was none other than Maren.

It took Lukas a further five seconds before he bolted forwards, getting in front of his mother and grabbing Maren by the shoulders. All the worries of secrecy flew out of his mind as he squeezed her shoulders and cried urgently, 'Maren!'

At his voice, Maren's eyes opened and landed on his face. They were red and puffy, the irises bloodshot and darting over his features. Her nose and cheeks were red, her lips trembling and chin quivering. Seeing her up close like this made Lukas feel sick. He had never seen her be so _scared_ or so utterly broken, nor had he ever seen her this badly hurt, not since that awful bullet wound when she had been shot.

She whispered out a, 'Lukas?' before she started sobbing once again. The boy's crying had subsided and he was looking at Lukas curiously, his round eyes full of interest. 'Lukas, Lukas please don't let them take us back. Don't let them take my baby back…'

'Maren…' Lukas wanted to cry, too. He had known that there was something wrong—he knew it! He hated himself for knowing it and for not doing something about it before it had happened. But there was a more pressing matter at hand, so he shoved his self-loathing thoughts to one side and said firmly, 'Maren… Maren, I need you to listen to me.'

Gazing tearfully at him, Maren sniffled and visibly tried to get her breathing back to normal. Her grip tightened on the boy—who must have been Emil—and she swallowed thickly before nodding.

'You're safe now,' Lukas told her in a whisper, as to not show his cracking voice if he spoke any louder. 'You and Emil, you're _safe._ No one is going to take you back to Hexley. You're here, the both of you. You need to be seen by a doctor and Emil needs to be put to rest. Mother and a maid are going to look after him upstairs and no one other than you, the two of them and myself can go in and check on him. Thomas will guard the door just in case. Does that sound good to you?'

Maren merely stared at him for a few moments. Then she nodded in agreement and turned to her son. Lukas felt his already shattered heart break even more when he saw her try to smile at her little boy, putting on a brave face just for him, and young Emil reached a hand for his mother's face. Lukas glanced at his own mother and was shocked to see her in tears. Lady Bondevik was one who kept her tears to herself and her family, never showcasing them to anyone else, let alone a large group of people. She moved to look at Lukas, and upon making eye contact, her expression hardened, appearing almost critical. He had a feeling she must have figured out something was going on between him and Maren—but he didn't have time to ponder on the idea as Maren started whispering to Emil.

'Mamma loves you, baby,' she told him, kissing the corner of his forehead gently. 'Mamma really loves you… so, so much.' She looked at Lukas' mother and said to her, 'Please take care of him.'

'Of course, darling,' Lady Bondevik responded in a soft voice, and she took Emil from Maren's arms. 'I or one of the maids will be with him at all times and, as my son said, Thomas will be guarding the door to the nursery.'

Maren thanked her and attempted to keep up her brave face as she waved to her son. 'Mamma loves you,' she repeated, smiling softly.

But Emil had started to fuss in Lady Bondevik's arms once she began walking away. Lukas heard him muttering, 'Ma… Ma…' uncertainly over and over again. Then, just as they reached the edge of the room, Emil looked over Lady Bondevik's shoulder and cried out, 'Mamma! Mamma!' tears once again falling down his chubby cheeks. Lukas heard Maren sob next to him and Emil protested loudly as he was taken out of the room.

Then Lukas had an idea.

He ran up to his mother and Emil, stopping them momentarily. He patted Emil's head delicately and took a little hand in his own. The child gazed up at him with watery eyes and Lukas took away his tears with a finger. He acted so much like Maren that Lukas was taken back for a slight moment. He was most definitely her son.

'Mamma's safe,' he told him, smiling calmly. Emil continued to stare at him. 'Mamma's safe.'

Emil looked down for a second, and then back up to Lukas' face. 'Sss… sa… safe?' he repeated, struggling to pronounce the word.

Lukas nodded. 'Safe.'

Emil glanced over his shoulder at Maren. 'Mamma?'

Lukas made him look at him again. 'Safe. Mamma safe.' He placed a lingering, faint kiss on the top of Emil's head. 'Safe. Baby and Mamma safe.'

Choosing then to hide his face in Lady Bondevik's neck, Emil muttered out another, 'Safe…' in it. Lukas stroked his hair and urged with his eyes to his mother to leave before Emil started fussing again. She didn't look at all pleased—for whatever reason, Lukas had yet to figure that out—and she left with baby Emil without a word.

As he moved to return to Maren, Lukas felt his entire soul tear into two when he saw her crying into her hands. He went up to her, reached out and stroked her arms, determined to at least comfort her in some way, to relay to her that yes, her and Emil were safe. They were never going back. But he got a shock when Maren lifted her head and was _smiling_ a little, albeit sadly.

'That… that was the first time…' she mouthed in between huge gulps of air. 'That was the first time he called me Mamma…'

She cried harder and all Lukas could do was sweep her into his arms and hold her tightly against him. Trembling in his embrace, she hugged him with an iron grip, sobbing into his neck and shoulder. Lukas rocked her back and forth, whispering consolations in her ear that she's okay, there's no need to cry anymore, I'm here for you. He tried very hard not to cry himself, but failed when a few tears rolled down his cheeks. This was the worst—nothing tore him apart more than seeing this beautiful woman, his strong, resilient Maren, become undone in front of him. He thwarted her apology when she said, 'I didn't know where else to go…' and kissed her crown, shushing her quietly. He reached a hand to the back of her head, bringing her closer to him.

But he paused when he felt something… _strange…_ something wet and warm.

Looking close, goose bumps popped up all over his body as he pulled his hand away from her head and saw red staining his fingers.

 **.**

Seeing the blood stain on his hand, Lukas glanced over, horrified, to his father and Baxter. They were still standing by the door, and when Lukas lifted his hand to show them, their eyes popped out of their sockets in terror. Baxter mumbled a quick, 'I'll go and fetch some washcloths,' before he disappeared from sight. Lord Bondevik merely stood frozen in his spot, unable to figure out what he could possibly do to help the situation. Lukas didn't know either, but he turned back to his beloved, who was still sobbing into his shirt. He needed to get her to calm down. If he didn't… her injuries could get worse from the extra strain she was putting on them.

'Maren… Maren, darling, I need you to listen to me,' he said to her softly as he pulled away, trying his hardest not to show any panic or distress on his face—despite feeling both very strongly—as to not freak her out. When she gazed up at him, Lukas brushed some wayward hair from her eyes and told her kindly, 'I need you to calm down. Crying is only making your injuries worse… The doctor is on his way, but in the meantime, I'm going to clean you up as much as I can, okay? But I need you to relax.' He kissed her forehead delicately. 'I'll be by your side the whole time. I'm not going anywhere.'

It was easier said than done. It took Maren a full fifteen minutes to stop crying and a further ten to get her breathing back to normal. Lukas was with her the entire time, just as he promised, rubbing her back and kissing her hands in an attempt to provide her a means of distraction. Also during that time, Baxter had come back with several pieces of washcloths and hot water, asking if he wanted to help Lukas in attending to her. He had thought for a moment, then decided against it; instead, Lukas had given him direct instructions to go to Berwald's manor.

'Go and bring him here. Tell him it concerns his sister,' he had told the old butler, and Baxter had gone instantly.

During his absence, Lukas had managed to get rid of most of the blood that matted the back of Maren's head and her hair. The water was stained red, but Lukas continued his work. The bleeding had stopped, thank the Lord, and Lukas pondered on whether or not he really wanted to know what had happened in order for Maren to obtain such a wound. He was gentle in his ministrations, not adding too much pressure in fear he would hurt her, or worse, cause the wounds to start bleeding again. He tried to keep his shaking hands steady and he sent her encouraging looks every so often.

Lukas, throughout the whole thing, tried to keep his true emotions in order. He didn't want to scare Maren, or to make her feel guilty for having worried him. He knew she would beat herself up over it, even though it wasn't her fault to begin with—so he tried to keep a blank face, save for an occasional smile or comforting gaze. Lukas didn't ask her what had happened, didn't mention anything about it. He would find out once the police arrived and started asking questions. Then and there was the time to make sure that Maren was more or less healthy, that there was nothing life-threatening in terms of her injuries, and to relay to her—so she knew—that she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted to. _Indefinitely,_ Lukas thought.

Then, just as Lukas was moving to clean the blood off of Maren's face, starting with her hairline, the door to the drawing room opened. In came Lady Bondevik, and when Lukas looked at her, he saw that she was anything _but_ pleased. Her mouth was pressed tightly together, her chest was out indignantly and her features were contorted into a very disapproving expression. She looked rather scary, and Lukas was suddenly reminded of all the times he had been told off as a child. She didn't keep silent for much longer, as she was determined to make herself heard.

'Lukas Bondevik—' Lukas flinched at the sound of her voice _and_ at the use of his full name. '—explain yourself this instant.'

Maren, who hadn't said a word from the moment she had stopped crying and who had had her head down, eyes on her knees, glanced up in confusion at Lady Bondevik. Lukas, himself, was feeling a bit puzzled, but he could see that his father—who had been standing in the corner the entire time, occasionally coming out to bring Lukas more washcloths—was looking very grim. Maren and Lukas exchanged a look, Maren shrugging uncertainly and Lukas raising a curious eyebrow.

He turned back to his mother. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'

Lady Bondevik huffed irately, and Lukas felt foolish for opening his mouth. This was something beyond a simple telling off, he could see that now.

'What was that with the child? What is this—?' She gestured to the lovers with a stiff hand. 'Have you been planning this all along? Is this some kind of an act?'

The words settled in the air and Lukas felt his skin crawl. He was appalled at what his mother had just asked him. _Is she… is she suggesting what I think she's suggesting?_ _No way… she's my mother! Surely she wouldn't think…_

'You think…' He pointed to Maren's injured state, and asked in a disbelieving tone, 'You think _I_ did this?'

'I don't know what to think, Lukas,' Lady Bondevik told him in a strict tone, 'but it's a good enough guess.'

Maren appeared to have caught on then, and she shook her head rapidly and firmly. 'No! No, Lukas would never—it's so much more complicated than you think—'

But she was interrupted by Lord Bondevik, who had stepped out of the shadows and had placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. 'Myra… A word, if you please.'

Lady Bondevik gaped at him in shock. But at his stern gaze, she sighed and sent Lukas one last dirty look and a soft, 'I'm not finished with you yet, Lukas,' before she and her husband left the room. The door was shut with a soft _click_ , but the sound sent waves of an unknown feeling crashing through Lukas' body. He was stunned, to say the least. To think his own _mother_ thought that he would…

He didn't want to think about it. But Maren seemed to hear his thoughts as she reached out and lightly traced his arm.

'I would be in the same shoes if I were her, too, Lukas.' She let out a short breath. 'I mean… she doesn't know _anything_. I know she means well, and I'm sure that once she knows the truth, she'll take back what she said. Don't take it to heart, my darling. It's not her fault she's been kept out of the loop thus far.'

'That doesn't make it any better,' Lukas muttered, hurt that his mother thought he would lay his hands on Maren in such a way for the sake of an _act._ It didn't sit well with him at all, but he lifted Maren's chin up so he could continue his work, saying, 'But forget about her. We have more pressing issues to deal with.'

Maren sighed. 'I'm sorry, Lukas…'

'For what? None of this is your fault,' he said, moving the washcloth over her battered cheek. He wrung it out into the stained water and dipped another edge in, cleaning the area underneath her eye, where some dried blood was sitting, and he set his jaw. He had managed to clean most of the blood off, but the fact that he was doing it in the first place made his stomach froth in anger and made him see red. 'I'm going to kill him. I will. Screw the police and the justice system, I'm going to kill him.'

But Maren was having none of that. 'Then all of this would have been for nothing,' she said to him sternly.

She was right, of course, but that didn't take away the fury Lukas felt for Hexley or the horror and melancholy he felt for Maren and Emil. The onslaught of all the emotions he had kept bottled up suddenly overwhelmed him, causing his hands to shake violently and for his throat to tighten. Unable to do anything more with it, Lukas dumped the bloodied washcloth by the bowl of water with a low growl and tried to get his nerves in order. But he failed to do so as the tears escaped and started to fall down his face. He turned his face away from Maren to hide them.

But it was too late. She had seen them already.

'Lukas… Lukas, don't cry.' She cupped his cheek and made him look at her. Her thumb stroked his cheekbone and she chuckled softly. 'I think I've done enough crying for the entire house!'

'How can I not? Look what he's done to you…' Lukas sent her a serious look and breathed in angrily as he fisted his hands against his trousers, spitting out, 'And how dare he touch Emil? He's a _child_ , for god's sake! No one hurts those I love and gets away with it easily. I can't help my tears, Maren,' he added in a whisper, uncoiling a hand and brushing his fingertips against her cheek, 'because it kills me to see you like this.'

Opening her mouth to reply, Maren was once again interrupted as the door to the room opened. In came Baxter and behind him what appeared to be a very flustered Berwald. At the sight of his sister, of her injuries and the stained washcloths beside her and Lukas, Berwald froze and took a step backwards a little bit. His eyes were round in shock—rounder than what Lukas had ever seen on him—and his jaw slackened. Then he shut his mouth, his eyes steeled themselves and Lukas saw his hands turn into fists by his sides.

'God.' The eyes flashed behind his glasses as he rushed towards Maren. 'That man is dead.'

'Not you as well,' Maren muttered, but she returned the hug that Berwald enveloped her in, wincing when he tightened his grip on her. 'He will get what is coming to him. No need for you two to get involved.'

She sent both men a pointed look, and before either of them could protest, to tell her that Hexley needed more than just the police to sort him out, Baxter cleared his throat loudly. All three turned their faces to look at him and saw him fiddling with his jacket.

'Um… Doctor Aitken has arrived,' he told them, gesturing to the open door. 'He's ready to see Lady Hexley—'

'Sir, forgive me for interrupting you, but please… Either call me Maren or, at the most, Miss Køhler.' She glared heavily at him, but Lukas knew it wasn't for him: the glare was all her hatred at Hexley coming through. 'I refuse to associate myself with Hexley any longer.'

Baxter, unintimidated by Maren's harsh manner, bowed his head and ushered Doctor Aitken into the room. As he went to head out the door, Lukas asked him, 'What about the police, Baxter? Weren't they supposed to arrive before the doctor here?'

The old butler merely shrugged. 'They must have gotten caught up on the way. But I imagine they will be here soon.'

Nodding in acknowledgment, Lukas thanked Baxter for everything he had done that evening and promised that he would make it up to him in the long run. But Baxter shook his head and help up his hands, saying that he was always happy to serve the Bondeviks well, and left, shutting the door behind him.

 _I really do owe the man…_ Lukas thought as he turned back to the others. He saw the doctor tilting Maren's head backwards, taking a closer look at the wounds on her face in the light. Lukas heard him sigh sadly, and he and Berwald glanced at each other in concern. They both watched as Aitken took out a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket and rested the now open pad on his knee.

'I'm going to have to ask you some questions, Maren. Is that alright?' he asked her, and at her nod, he breathed in deeply and looked over at the other two men. 'I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

Maren protested immediately. 'No. No, I want them to stay. Please… they can stay.'

Aitken raised a curious eyebrow at her, but didn't argue with her request. 'Very well. Now, to business. Other than what I can see, are you hurt elsewhere?'

Maren gazed fearfully at Berwald and Lukas, swallowed and nodded her head slowly. 'I'm afraid that… the man whom I am unfortunately married to didn't quite hold back. He…' Her voice started to crack, and she whispered, 'He wanted to kill me…'

Lukas saw red. _Kill her? I'll fucking kill_ him _, the son-of-a-bitch!_

Aitken sighed heavily as he took down notes. 'And—before I ask these gentlemen to avert their gazes—I hate to ask you this, but I must. Is there by any chance you might be with child?'

Straining his hearing, Lukas watched as Maren's hands landed on her stomach. There was a funny look on her face and she bit her bottom lip. 'I… I can't be certain,' she answered in a soft voice. 'I might be... Most likely, yes. But I can't be absolutely certain, Doctor.'

Jotting something down, Aitken then told Lukas and Berwald to turn around. When they did, he said to Maren, 'Alright, Maren, I need you to take off your clothes so I can take a closer look. I need to take note of everything so the police can make a case.'

Lukas kept his gaze on the wall in front of him, and he heard the swish of clothes being removed. He knew that she was doing this against her wishes, but it was the only way to provide proof. Lukas wasn't sure if he wanted to know what that proof was, but when he found himself glancing at Berwald to see if he was paying attention—and he wasn't, for he had his eyes shut and his head down—Lukas quickly glanced over his shoulder for a split second. What he saw made his heart _shatter_ and his eyes grow round.

Maren was in nothing but her underdress, nothing Lukas hadn't seen before, but unlike the one she had been wearing when they had last seen each other, this one was sheerer. It allowed for more to be seen, though not enough in order to see everything. But what Lukas could see made him want to cry. There were bruises and blood patches all over her body: her stomach, her arms and legs, her chest, and when she turned around as per instruction from Aitken, there were thick, red lines all down her back and bruises to match. It was as if someone had taken a paintbrush, dipped it into a mixture of black, purple and blue and splattered it on Maren's skin, followed by huge chucks of red. Lukas was scared to note that there seemed to be more bruises and areas of blood than there were freckles on her body.

He turned back around quickly and hurriedly wiped his eyes free of tears. He had to be strong, for Maren if for no one else.

Hexley was a dead man. Oh, he was a _dead_ man. Lukas wanted to see to him personally, but Maren needed him now more than ever. He would see him once he was sure that Maren was safe and sound.

 **.**

It was about ten minutes or so before Lukas and Berwald were allowed to turn back around. By that point, Maren had redressed and was sitting in the same chair as she had been before. Aitken was taking furious notes, his pen flying over the pages of his notebook; there were lines so deep in his forehead Lukas wondered if the skin would ever be straightened again. Once he had finished, he stared at Maren long and hard, sighing deeply and then asking if there was anything else he should know about. She told him about her son and his injury, and asked if he could go up and check up on him. He promised her he would and got up to leave. Lukas instructed Aitken to mention to the footman at the door that he was allowed to go in and see him, quickly explaining why when Lukas was thrown a puzzled look from the doctor.

Aitken left the room after gathering his things, leaving Berwald, Lukas and Maren on their own once again.

But not for very long.

'Sally Griffiths, where on _earth_ have you been?'

At Lady Bondevik's shrill voice, the three exchanged a shocked look and strained their ears to listen to the upcoming conversation.

'My Lady, I can explain—'

'And who are you? What on earth is going on?'

'Please, your Ladyship, we'll explain once we see Maren and Emil—' Genevieve piped in, and Lukas started to relax slightly.

 _They're here. They're all okay…_

'Ladies, please! One thing at a time!' a man's voice shouted. 'We can sort this out later. Where is the victim?'

'That must be the police,' Berwald muttered, looking at Lukas and Maren. 'Time to put Hexley away _for good_.'

The door opened and Lukas didn't know what to prepare himself for. Two police officers ambled in, one very tall and lanky and the other short and roundish. Both had impeccable uniforms on, which were a sheer difference compared to the array of outfits that surrounded them, including Lady Bondevik in a nightgown, Lord Bondevik still in his dinner jacket, and Tino, Genevieve and Sally in their servant's gear, bloodied and torn.

The appearance of the latter three made Lukas freeze and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. They were in a similar state to Maren's, only not as bad as far as he could see. As he drank them in, Lukas wondered if he would ever be prepared for anything, and if his heart was going to survive through the night.

He gestured to them. 'What the hell happened to you three?'

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

At Lukas' question, a few things occurred: Sally sighed heavily, Genevieve sniffed loudly, and Tino's legs gave way as he fell to the floor. Maren gasped loudly as Berwald and Lukas went to help the poor man to his feet. Up close, Lukas could see the dried blood on his face and the sickly paleness of his skin. Exchanging a quick look with Berwald, they guided him to the seat next to Maren, gently setting him into it. Once he was seated, Maren hopped to her feet, grabbing one of the only clean washcloths left and gently pressing it against the wound at his hairline. She was told to sit down, for, 'You're injured too, you need to rest!' She snapped that she was sick of doing nothing but sitting around. Enough was enough. So Maren lifted Tino by his chin in order to tilt his head back slightly, making it easier for her to see where she was pressing the washcloth against the wound to make it stop bleeding.

Glancing over at Berwald, Lukas could see how distressed the man looked. His eyes were set on Tino, and Lukas knew that Berwald was in pain. He couldn't openly express his concern for Tino, not with the Lord and Lady Bondevik and the two police officers in the room. So he opted for heading towards his wife, and the anguish on his face only magnified when he saw how badly hurt she was as well. Though not as bad as Maren had been when she had arrived, Genevieve's face was covered in scratches and dried blood, and a few bruises were starting to form under her eye and on her jawline. Genevieve let Berwald hug her, and she hugged him back just as hard, burying her face into his neck. Lukas could see from where he was standing that her hands were shaking against his back…

Lukas, himself, went towards Sally. Her cheeks had scratches on them, as well, and her lower lip had been split. Her eyes were wide, like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights on the road. Lukas rubbed her shoulders and brought her close to him for an embrace. She was trembling so much against him and he wondered what the hell they had been through to come out of it like this…

Sally answered that silent question straightaway.

'Hexley went crazy, Lukas,' she whispered. 'He lashed out at the three of us… so we ran. We couldn't stay there anymore.'

Frowning at her, Lukas pulled away slightly and asked, 'How did you manage to escape? Moreover, how did you get here? Hexley manor isn't exactly close…'

'We found them on the side of the road,' the shorter officer told him. 'We were on our way here when we saw them. Said they knew you and that they wanted to provide evidence against Lord Hexley.'

'He went insane,' Genevieve added softly, moving away from Berwald slightly. 'I don't know what happened, but we had to do something. So Sally and I got Maren and Emil out as fast as we could. Tino… provided a means of distraction.' She paused and her eyes scanned the room before her expression formed into one of worry. 'Where's the baby?'

'Upstairs,' Maren answered. 'Lady Bondevik and a maid are looking after him—' Maren smiled at Lukas' mother. '—which I am very grateful for. I wasn't in a good state when I arrived.'

Genevieve nodded in acknowledgement as she let out a breath of relief. She then nestled her head into Berwald's chest, shutting her eyes as she tried to collect herself. In the meantime, Berwald, with an arm around her waist, turned his gaze to Tino and asked, in a deep tone, 'What did you do, Tino?'

Tino laughed softly and winced at the very action afterwards. 'I gave him something to remember me by. Needless to say he did the same to me.' He grunted as Maren moved the washcloth further up into his hair, waving off her apology as he said, 'I beat him up, pure and simple.'

Berwald blanched. 'You didn't.'

'I did, and I regret nothing,' Tino rebutted, staring at the tall man intently. 'It was either me or the ladies, so I opted for myself rather than for them to be even more hurt.'

There was a momentary pause before Lady Bondevik, clearly having had enough of not knowing, cried, 'Can _someone_ please tell me what on earth is going on! My husband refuses to give me details, and I know he knows something—so please, for the love of God, what is going on?'

'We shall get the answers in a moment, your Ladyship,' the taller officer reassured her softly. 'We received some information on the way here, and we will ask those involved to tell us what has occurred from the beginning. But first, we shall let them gather themselves and rest for a moment…'

 **.**

For the next little while, the people in the drawing room stayed in a peaceful silence. Maren continued dabbing at poor Tino's head, and Berwald and Lukas continued to console Genevieve and Sally, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. The police officers had taken a seat with the Lord and Lady Bondevik, talking quietly amongst themselves about whatever came to mind. Their moments of silence had been momentarily interrupted when Aitken had come back in order to give his notes to the police and to do a check-up for Tino, Genevieve and Sally. He also told Maren that Emil was fine, that the scratch on his forehead would heal with no problems. Shortly after that, he had left the Bondevik manor, but not before saying to the police officers, in a tone of contempt, 'Make sure that bastard hangs for his crimes. My observations are in the notes—read them carefully and thoroughly.'

Lukas thanked the doctor for coming around to help them and promised they would pay him as soon as possible. He had gotten a smile and a shake of the head as a response before the old doctor ambled out of the room.

Another ten or so minutes went by before the officers cleared their throats and asked if they could make a start. The small group exchanged looks and came to a wordless agreement: it was time to reveal everything. All their hard work and all their suffering was about to come to a close. Lukas felt nervous, but also rather excited. Everyone began to rearrange their seats so that they were sitting in a position where everyone could be seen. The only people who remained standing were Maren, who was still holding the now bloodied washcloth on Tino's head, and Lady Bondevik, too agitated to sit down.

'So,' the shorter officer asked, opening his notepad on his thigh and fixing his moustache, 'what exactly is it you want to charge Lord Hexley with?'

Tino scowled heavily and pointed to the notepad. 'How much paper do you have? It's a rather extensive list.'

The officer flicked through it and glanced up at Tino. 'Not much. Think you can summarise it.'

Snoring, Tino lifted his hands, counting on his fingers as he listed, 'Let's see… Attempted murder, domestic violence and abuse, marital violence and abuse, child abuse and neglect, rape, mistreatment of wife, child and staff, imprisonment of wife and child—' He paused, frowning deeply. '—and for being the biggest, fucking bastard in the country. Excuse my vulgar language, ladies…' He stared at the officers intensely. 'That good enough for you?'

'You forgot one, Tino,' Genevieve spoke up, holding the hand that Berwald slid into hers. Lukas applauded them inwardly for their acting skills. 'Forceful marriage given Maren's obvious rejection and refusal. You can charge the priest and both sets of parents for that, and the parents in particular for allowing the previous actions Tino mentioned to occur.'

Lukas' parents and the officers were, to state the obvious, utterly shocked. Lady Bondevik had to sit herself down due to her alarm, and the men were speechless, their mouths hanging open and eyes bulging. While Lukas could understand their surprise, he was preoccupied with something Tino had said that had caused the blood in his veins to stop flowing. Attempted murder. _Murder._

 _What the hell as happened?_ He thought frantically, looking at Maren from the corner of his eye. _I'll kill the bastard… I will…_

The taller officer scratched his head in confusion and sighed. He pointed his pen at Tino and said in a strong voice, 'Alright. Start from the beginning.'

Lukas saw Maren gaze at him before she asked, in a sorrowful tone, 'Which beginning?'

Now that Lukas thought about it, there were several points from where they could start their explanations. He wasn't sure if he was sad at this fact or not. The officer thought for a moment, tapping his chin with the end of his pen.

'Let's go from the moment you were married Lord Hexley. The reasons why and all included, of course.'

Thus, the explanations begun. Knowing that they couldn't hide anything from the police—least of all, Lukas' parents—they told them everything. They started with the reason Maren had been punished with her marriage to Lord Hexley, about having disguised herself as a man during the war and had gone to fight in order to escape the everyday abuse from her parents. Lukas and Maren did the majority of the talking, describing in full detail what had happened, how they had met on the train to France and how they had fallen in love over the next couple of months. They told the officers and Lukas' parents about that day at the Somme, how Maren's secret had been revealed and how she had been sent home. The story shifted to when she and Lukas had reunited in March earlier that year, and the details of her time in Hexley manor was relayed, as well as her and Lukas' weekly Friday meetings.

Berwald and Tino took part in the conversation when Lukas mentioned going to Finland. They told the officers how Lukas went to free Tino from his false sentencing of committing sodomy and perversion with Berwald—obviously leaving the actual facts of them being together out—and about Lukas' plan of getting Maren out of the house by way of gathering evidence with Sally, Genevieve and Tino being on the inside. Berwald and Genevieve then talked about their punishments and how they were married to each other due to their families thinking they were homosexuals. They surprised the officers and the Bondeviks when Berwald said, 'We ended up falling in love, so our families' plans of making our lives miserable failed.' He kissed Genevieve's hairline and Genevieve smiled gently and said strongly, 'They did us a favour.'

Despite the entire situation, Lukas was amazed by their perseverance. He knew that they didn't love each other romantically, but the fact that they could pull off the idea that they were was to be applauded. But Lukas also knew that they did care for each other, so there was some truth in what they had said.

Throughout their explanations, Lukas saw his mother's face grow paler and paler as the stories made themselves known and as the pages of the officers' notepads flew by determined to catch every detail. He was still feeling very sour about her previous accusation, and he sent her a dirty look every so often, challenging her wordlessly and saying mentally, _you see? I had nothing to do with this. I would never hurt her. Never. I love her!_

As the discussion continued, it turned to the last two weeks. Lukas strained his ears to listen, resolute on finally discovering what on earth had happened and where Maren and the others had been. It was Maren who told them everything, setting down the washcloth and taking the seat in between Tino and Lukas. She gazed into the officers' faces and took in a deep breath.

'So… about two weeks ago, after my last meeting with Lukas, Hexley had decided that he had wanted to take a trip,' she said, her voice strong and clear in the quiet room. 'He wanted to visit his relatives out of London, and he didn't trust me or any of the staff to remain behind—so we all went with him. Nothing major happened there, surprisingly. In fact… he pretty much left me alone for the next two weeks. It was only last night and today that he really…' She sucked in a shaky breath. 'He nearly killed me, to say the least… nearly killed all of us…

'He, um…' She averted her gaze from the officers to the carpet, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. 'He wanted to bed me last night. I told him no, because I wasn't feeling very well. I had been sick all that morning and the last thing my body needed was… well, _that._ But he wouldn't take no for an answer. He did what he wanted and then proceeded to beat me up as usual. That's where the majority of the bruises came from. But then today… today was a nightmare…'

Maren stopped completely, swallowing audibly and biting her bottom lip. The others in the room swapped expressions, and the taller officer leant forward and said gently, 'You don't have to go into the details, Miss. You don't have to tell us at all.'

Shooting the officer a sharp look, Maren's eyes went wide and she shook her head.

'But I need to.'

She shut her eyes and breathed in slowly. Lukas reached over and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently and smiled when she opened her eyes to look at him. She smiled unsteadily at him and squeezed his hand back before turning back to the others in the room, continuing with her story. All the while, she had her hand firmly grasping Lukas' own, like a lifeline.

'Hexley locked me in our bedroom for the whole day. He came and went every so often, demanding that I tell him the truth. What truth that was, I had no idea. Every time I denied telling him whatever truth he wanted to hear, he hurt me. It was like that for the whole day, right up until eleven o'clock. That's… that's when he got _violent._

'He came in, screaming blue murder about how I was about to get what I deserved, for how dare I try to go behind his back and try to _escape_. He had somehow found out about these three—' She gestured to Sally, Genevieve and Tino. '—but still I denied everything. Then he left again, only… only he left the door open this time. I waited to see what would happen, and it was about five minutes later that I heard Emil _screaming._ '

The officers paused in their notetaking and glanced at each other. Then the shorter one turned to stare at Maren and asked, 'Emil is…?'

'Emil?' Maren blinked then exclaimed, 'Oh! Oh, he's my son. He's two years old.'

As the officers jotted that down, Lukas looked at his mother and saw her expression freeze. He thought nothing of it as Maren continued.

'I decided to get out of the room and I ran towards the nursery. Once I got in there, I saw Emil on the floor and Hexley towering over him. That's when I saw the scratch… I don't know if he dropped him there or if he did something else, but Emil was crying and screaming so much that I had to do something. So I ran in and picked him up, and I was yelling at Hexley, standing up to him properly for the first time in my life. He didn't like that.'

Maren stopped once more, swallowing a few times before she went on to say, 'He took Emil from me, put him back in his crib and dragged me back to the bedroom.' She pointed to her face and the blood on her clothes. 'I'd rather not go into the details… I think my injuries speak for themselves. But everything must have caused a commotion for the next thing I knew, Genevieve and Sally were running into the room, just as Hexley had gotten me against the wall by my neck… As soon as they came in, he turned on them both.'

'We had heard the chaos from downstairs,' Sally spoke up, wringing her hands in her lap. 'So Genevieve and I decided to see what the problem was. When Hexley saw us, he hit Genevieve first and then me. Despite there being the three of us, he had hurt us to the point where we couldn't do anything to protect ourselves.'

'By that point, Tino stepped in and provided his distraction while the three of us headed back to the nursey to get Emil,' Genevieve added, shuddering and only relaxing when Berwald wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 'Then using Tino's distraction as a tool, the two of us got Maren and the baby out of the house.'

'I then ran here with Emil, and the rest is history,' Maren concluded. A storm then passed over her face, her eyes going dark and her good-natured face forming into a deep scowl. 'I could endure the beatings Hexley gave me,' she whispered, 'and I stayed in that house for as long as possible, in order to gather as much evidence as possible—enough to be able to convict him, his mother and my parents for what they did to me. But once Hexley turned on my son, _my_ baby… that was the final straw.'

There was a stunned pause as the words settled in the air. Then Tino finished off their explanation with, 'By the time Maren had gone, I had managed to knock Hexley out. He managed to get me pretty good before he did, but it wasn't anything that could stop me from getting out of that house. I grabbed Genevieve and Sally from the nursery on the way out, and the three of us escaped. That is when you found us hobbling on the pavement in town,' he aimed at the officers.

Silence enveloped them all after that. The officers wrote down the last of the notes, deep lines on their foreheads. Lord Bondevik's eyes were focused on a spot on the ground, his expression one of shock. Lady Bondevik had covered her mouth with her hand and the corners of her eyes were beaded with tears. Berwald and Genevieve were curled into each other—still keeping up appearances—and Sally and Tino were exchanging tired glances, albeit with smiles on their faces. Lukas felt Maren's grip on his hand tighten; he looked at her and saw her exhausted face relax and her eyes dance.

Lukas' mind was spinning. He couldn't get head or tail of anything he had just heard. He was angry. He was upset. He was horrified. He was… _relieved._

He brought Maren's hand closer towards him, holding it with both hands and he kissed her fingers delicately.

It was almost over. Everything was coming to a close.

 **.**

Once the final things were sorted and recorded, the clock struck half-past two in the morning, and the police officers bade them farewell. They promised to convict the Hexleys and the Sørensons for everything they had done, and wished them all well as they went out the door. There was a collective sigh from everyone in the room, exhaustion catching up to them all.

'Well… I suppose we better head home,' Berwald said to Genevieve and Tino, standing from his seat from next to his wife. He bowed in the direction of Lord and Lady Bondevik and said, 'Thank you for your hospitality this evening, and many apologies for making this a burden to you. We shall head home and leave you in peace.'

But Lady Bondevik was already shaking her head. 'You must be joking! It's almost three o'clock in the morning, most of you are injured _and_ you've all had a terrible shock! No… no, it's best you remain here tonight. I'll get some of the staff to make your rooms for you.'

'There really is no need, your Ladyship,' Genevieve told her, rising to her feet to stand beside her husband. 'Berwald is right. We best be getting on.'

'I _insist_.' Lady Bondevik gave them a cool, challenging stare, but her voice was a kind one as she whispered, 'Please… it's the least we can do.'

The three exchanged a look, thought it better not to go against Lady Bondevik's wishes and politely accepted. There was hustle and bustle as people started moving towards their rooms for the night; the Bondevik showed Genevieve, Tino and Berwald their rooms and it was decided upon showing the rooms that Maren would stay with Lukas. Sally bade them all goodnight and went towards her room downstairs, no doubt wanting to catch up with the other household staff as well as getting some much needed rest, but not before Lukas thanked them all again for their efforts before they retired for the night.

He watched as Genevieve and Berwald went into one room together and as Tino took the one next to them. He smiled inwardly at the thought that Tino and Genevieve would swap once they were sure everyone had gone to sleep. Taking Maren's hand, Lukas began leading her to his bedroom with a smile and he beamed inside when she sent him one in return. Lady Bondevik had promised to lend the woman some clothes for the time being, at least until they were able to get her things and move them into the Bondevik manor. They had just reached the door to Lukas' room when Maren stopped.

Lukas saw that she was looking beyond his sight and, turning around to see what she was looking at, saw that her eyes had landed on Thomas, who standing outside a room a few doors down from where they were. Lukas knew from the expression Maren had on her face that she wanted to see Emil, even before she opened her mouth to ask. He took her towards the room and upon reaching Thomas, he dismissed him from guard duty, telling him to get some well-deserved rest. The footman bowed his head and left, dragging his feet behind him. No doubt he was tired, as they all were.

Without another word, they entered the nursery. Then they paused in mild shock when they saw Lady Bondevik standing by a white crib. Upon their arrival, she glanced up at them and smiled gently.

'He finally fell asleep,' she told the pair in a whisper as they came up to her. 'Took him a while, but hopefully there will be no more disturbances.'

Peeking into the crib, Lukas saw that baby Emil was fast asleep, a thumb in his mouth and eyelids fluttering with dreaming. It was then that Lukas fully took in Emil, without impending danger or worry filling his body. He was rather small for a two year old, with a head of wispy, pale hair—whether it was white or a very light blond, Lukas didn't know. He was curled into himself, covered with a light pink blanket and dressed in white. He was so cute that Lukas felt his heart swell. Lukas could see the smattering of freckles on his nose like Maren had described to him and he couldn't help but smile at that fact.

Glancing at his beloved, he saw her smiling fondly at her son. She reached a hand into the crib and lightly stroked Emil's cheek with a finger. The love and adoration on her face made everything that had happened worthwhile. Maren could now be with her son, as she ought to be. Watching them both, Lukas nearly missed the tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw his mother looking solemn and—he was astounded to see—sheepish.

'I want to apologise for my accusations earlier.'

She sighed and glanced over at Maren and the baby, and Lukas pondered over the far away expression she had plastered on her face. She seemed a million miles away from that nursery, her eyes focused on something other than Maren and Emil. What she said next made Lukas freeze.

'I thought he was yours. I thought that this entire scheme was a way to get your love and your son back to you, and I thought that you had gone to the extremes to get them home…' Lady Bondevik gazed at him. 'I was wrong. I'm sorry… I hope you can forgive me.'

While he was still feeling raw over the fact that his mother had thought he would result to violence to get Maren to safety, Lukas could see that she was remorseful of her words. Sighing silently, he hugged her, whispered in her ear that she was forgiven and smiled at her when they parted. Lady Bondevik appeared to be a little happier.

Glancing at Maren, who was whispering to her son, Lukas told his mother, 'I wish he was mine. Then none of this would have happened.'

She agreed, then bade both him and Maren a soft goodnight, as to not disturb Emil's slumber.

'Thank you for everything you've done this evening,' Maren told Lady Bondevik softly, turning towards her as she made her way towards the door, 'and I apologise for my hysteria. I am forever in your debt.'

Lukas' mother took the young woman's hands in her own and kissed her cheek. 'Anything for my son's beloved.'

She walked out of the room, leaving behind two very perplexed people. They looked at each other, and Lukas saw that Maren's smile was so large that he decided to let his mother's strangeness pass for the time being. He walked up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to him. The both of them gazed down at Emil, letting all the stress and terror they had been feeling all that evening simply ooze out of their systems.

'We did it, Lukas,' Maren whispered, her tone one of awe. 'We're free.'

'Not quite yet,' Lukas reminded her, scowling a little at the very issue. 'We still need to go to court to testify.'

'Yes… but regardless,' she continued, gazing at him. 'We're not going back. We're home.'

 _We're home._

The events of the past half year seemed to become a blur in Lukas' mind. To think that they were finally together, Maren and Emil finally out of that household, finally free… Lukas had to pinch himself to believe he wasn't dreaming. All of that hard work, the terror and the suffering, had finally, _finally_ , come to an end. He was astounded at that. He cupped Maren's cheek and kissed her gently, no longer caring if someone walked in on them and saw them. Maren was with him. Emil was with him.

'Yes…' he mouthed. 'Home…'

With the love of his life in his arms and their son in the crib, Lukas was content knowing that little baby Emil, Maren and he were the only ones in the nursery, in their own little worlds… and that they were happy beyond anything they had felt in their lives. It was a new beginning for all of them.

* * *

 ** _To be continued..._**


	15. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu.**

* * *

 _March, 1920_

 **.**

It was a partially sunny Friday afternoon. The Bondevik garden looked exquisite, the flowers in full bloom and the rays of sunlight bouncing off the petals. The entire place was dressed in white, decorated with garlands and sheer curtains. People were dotted amongst the expanse of grass, talking animatedly as they discussed the event that was being held that day. Lukas spoke with a few of them, smiling brighter than he had in his life. It was a day neither him nor Maren had expected to occur, but it was certainly going to be one they would remember for the rest of their lives.

He was feeling nervous, that much was certain, but he was also terribly excited. To think that all those months of waiting and staking out the worst had come to this… Lukas' mind was still reeling from it. He was grateful that he and Maren had been lucky when it had come to the court hearing…

It had taken until October 1919 for the police to finalise all the evidence and to acquire all the necessary witness statements before heading to court to trial the Hexleys and the Sørensons. It had been an agonising few weeks of court dates and hearings, but at around the end of the month, both families had been charged and sentenced accordingly for their crimes against Maren and Berwald, and everyone else who had been involved. One thing had been made very clear at the last court meeting: the punishments were fair and Maren, Berwald and the others would never be hurt by them ever again.

Both Maren and Lukas had walked out of that courtroom feeling relieved and overjoyed. They had seen Hexley being taken away by the prison guards, with thick, gleaming handcuffs adorning his wrists. Lukas had felt satisfaction coursing through him as they walked through the heavy, oak doors… but that satisfaction had quickly been replaced by something far more spectacular.

Ever since that night when Maren had escaped Hexley manor, she had refused to let Emil out of her sight. As a result, Emil had been coming to every court hearing. But he was a good two year old, and he was always very quiet during the trial, either holding Maren's hand or gazing curiously at what was happening in front of him. At the end of that final hearing, Lukas had felt a tug on his trouser leg; he had looked down to see a pouty and frowny Emil with his arms in the air, demanding, 'Up! Up!' from his spot next to Maren's skirts. Throughout the past couple of months, Emil had learnt to walk very well, and he had become very good at running off and exploring, but as a result, his little legs got tired easily and he wanted to be carried home.

His expression had been too cute to resist, so Lukas hadn't hesitated to pick up the adorable baby, bringing him close to his chest. When he had done so, Emil had wrapped his arms around Lukas' neck in an undeniable hug and had whispered in his ear, 'Pappa…' nuzzling his cheek into Lukas' shoulder.

Needless to say, Lukas' satisfaction at Hexley's conviction had formed into sheer affection, and he had gone home that day with tears in his eyes. He couldn't have been happier at that point.

In celebration, Maren and Lukas had spent every waking moment together, and by pure determination on Maren's behalf, they had had their first time of making love with each other. Maren had been so happy, so loved and so overwhelmed that she had cried, but the kisses that had been planted on Lukas' lips spelt out that it had all been worth it. Nothing could have burst their bubble of happiness throughout those few weeks following the trial, even more so when Maren received news at the beginning of November that she was pregnant. There were scares initially that Hexley might have been the father, not Lukas—but after many tests and results, it was deemed certain the child had been conceived at the end of October, at the earliest.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Lukas was brought back to the present as he turned around, only to smile hugely.

'I see you made it safely to London, then!' he greeted his new guests, shaking their hands and taking them in for the first time in several years.

'Your place took us a while to find, but here we are!'

Standing in front of him were the Beilschmidt brothers. They had hardly changed a bit since that Christmas Eve in 1916, save for a thin scar on Gilbert's cheek. Ludwig was still taller than his older brother, but there was a maturity to them both that hadn't been there when they had met. Lukas then noticed the woman from Gilbert's photo standing next to him, grinning widely and holding a chubby, giggly baby in her arms. She, too, had changed from what Lukas had remembered from the photograph, with longer hair and more sparkly eyes. No doubt she and the baby were Elizabeta and Johan, and Lukas greeted them both in turn.

'It's lovely to finally meet you, Lukas!' Elizabeta told him, her voice light and thickly accented. 'These two haven't stopped talking about you and Maren.'

'I'm glad we've finally been able to meet,' Lukas said to her, waving a hand gently at Johan, who laughed. 'You have received endless praise from your husband and brother-in-law.'

'Well, someone needs to keep us in check,' Gilbert laughed, winking. 'So… where is the lovely Miss Maren? Still getting ready?'

'Seems like it,' Lukas whispered, his mouth still split in a huge smile. 'It really is good to see you both… Arnaud couldn't come because of his wheelchair and Noah's boat never left the harbour, so he's not here either. That being said, we must organise another meet up so we can all catch up properly.'

'We should,' Ludwig agreed, fixing his tie and smoothing out his suit. 'But today is about you and Maren. My congratulations to you both.'

' _Our_ congratulations, Ludwig,' Gilbert emphasised, slapping a hand on Lukas' shoulder. 'We're happy for you. Truly—and what a nice day to be getting married, eh?'

Lukas' felt his heart flutter at the word. _Married._ Yes… that partially sunny, Friday afternoon was Lukas' and Maren's wedding day. It still made Lukas' head spin, but at the same time, he felt incredibly giddy. He bowed his head in acknowledgement towards Gilbert and Ludwig, then held out an arm as he said, 'Let me introduce you to the in-laws, and to my parents.'

As they walked across the green towards a tent pitched up for the reception that would happen after the ceremony, Lukas took in his surroundings and let out a shaky breath. This was happening… this was the reality, and he was unbelievably happy. Despite the protesting of Lukas' parents to get married in a church, the wedding ceremony was being held in the Bondevik garden. Maren had fallen in love with it so much that she couldn't think of a better place to be joined in matrimony with her beloved. Lukas couldn't think of another place either.

Lukas led the Beilschmidt brothers, Elizabeta and baby Johan into the tent, bringing them to Berwald and Tino. Introductions were made and Lukas watched as they interacted with each other, smiling as he saw them getting along. His friends were all together, having a ball it seemed, and Lukas laughed gently when he saw Emil crawl into Tino's lap, demanding loudly for some attention.

Berwald and Tino had come separately to the wedding, given that both Sally and Genevieve were in Maren's bridal party. That day was a day for everyone to enjoy, so Lukas had made it quite clear that the entire staff of the Bondevik manor were to be treated as guests, not as staff, for the entire day. Other people had been hired to do the catering and the rest of the work, giving the staff, such as old Baxter, the footman Thomas and Sally, a proper day off. Maren herself had insisted that Sally be her maid of honour, which had caused the poor girl to cry tears of joy for hours.

Tino had taken it onto himself to be Emil's guardian for the day, a job he had taken upon with utmost delight, for Emil loved Tino as much as Tino loved him—but Emil also loved Berwald as he reached for Berwald's huge hands, and Berwald would have been lying if he didn't love the bundle of cute that was his nephew. Emil took a great interest in Johan, who still was still rather young, talking to him and asking him questions. Johan merely giggled, his hands making grabbing motions at Emil.

Lukas watched and listened, allowing himself a moment of serenity. He listened as Tino told the Beilschmidts about his and Berwald's publishing business—which they ran with Genevieve and her partner Annabelle, though that fact remained a secret—and he listened as Ludwig told them about how they had met Lukas and Maren on the front. It was all going so well that Lukas nearly forgot that he was about to be married.

And he was heavily reminded when he saw his mother rushing up to him, gesturing wildly with her hands. 'It's time!' she seemed to be yelling. 'Get in position, Lukas!'

There was not a moment to waste. Everyone got into position, Lukas in front of the priest, with his back facing the witnesses. His heart was racing in his chest and he tried to clear his mind of nerves. He was getting married to the woman he loved! This was a day for happiness, not nervousness! Lukas smiled to himself as he remembered the day he proposed to her.

They had been in their bedroom— _their_ bedroom, as opposed to _Lukas'_ bedroom—with nothing but the sheets around them and their hands clasped in the other's. Emil had been put to bed hours previous, the rest of the house tucked away in their beds, leaving the pair of them to have a moment alone together. Lukas had been feeling confident that night, and he had dug around in his trouser pocket—which had been on the floor—only to take out a box. He had turned back around to face Maren, whose face had formed into one of confusion, only to freeze when her eyes landed on the velvet box. He had said the words slowly and carefully, gauging Maren's reaction. When he had been tackled into a hug and kissed a million times, he knew that it was an infinite _yes._

The memory made his already huge smile grow larger, which quickly fell when he saw the priest nod. Slowly turning around, Lukas gulped discreetly, only for his breath to be taken away when his eyes settled on the woman that was walking towards him. He could see that she was finding it hard to walk, given the way she leant against Lord Bondevik—who insisted on walking her down the aisle—and being two months away from the due date, but by _god…_ by god, was she the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was utterly breathtaking and Lukas thought she looked like a goddess. The bruises that had painted her skin for years had all vanished, the cuts healed and the scars mere white strips amongst the freckles. Maren looked like a new woman, and a very happy one at that, for the smile on her face was the most radiant thing of all. Lukas couldn't help but smile too.

The majority of the ceremony went smoothly. Lukas couldn't focus on anything other than Maren, who stood beside him as the priest spoke to their witnesses. The priest's voice was muffled in the back of Lukas' mind, for he couldn't stop staring at the beautiful woman who was about to become his wife. But halfway during the ceremony, a small hiccup occurred—but even then, neither Lukas nor Maren considered it a hiccup: that partially sunny sky turned into a grey, clouded one, with rain starting to pour down on them all. Typical London weather. Nevertheless, through much shrieking—and an adorably giggly Johan and Emil—the guests all huddled under the giant wedding tent to escape the rain. But Maren and Lukas, laughing and smiling hugely, stayed where they were. Upon the completion of their vows, the gentle act of sliding rings onto fingers and the priest's declaration of pronouncing them man and wife, they shared their kiss in the rain, grinning into it and Lukas had successfully dipped Maren in the process.

They were drenched to the bone, shivering from the cold, but god, they were _ecstatic._

Sadly, their little adventure in the rain was short-lived, given Maren's state. 'Get inside!' Lady Bondevik shrieked at them both after they had parted. 'The baby has to be dry!' The guests, bride and groom all hurried into Björnstad House, where the reception was now going to take place, given the weather. It was slightly delayed for everyone had to change clothes or dry off before it could commence. Only Lukas and Maren stayed in their wet clothes, being too in the moment to break it. But they dried off fairly quickly.

The day ended around eleven o'clock in the evening. Dancing, singing, speeches and laughter had taken place all afternoon and night, though many of the guests were either falling asleep or had fallen asleep: Emil had long fallen asleep in Uncle Tino's arms and Tino himself had nodded off. Gilbert and Johan had joined them, Gilbert's mouth wide open and Johan curled against his chest. It was the most precious sight that Lukas had to call Maren over from farewelling some of the guests to have a look. She had cooed softly at them and laughed when Gilbert snorted in his sleep. The guests were starting to trickle out, and Maren and Lukas waved goodbye, going off to begin their honeymoon in Paris.

But not before spending the night in their secret place, in the little house they had come to know. Tino and Berwald, Genevieve and Annabelle had promised to take care of young Emil, promising to spoil him while Maren and Lukas were honeymooning. The newlyweds were driven to their home, where they would spend the rest of the night in each other's arms.

Upon the landing, Lukas tucked a piece of Maren's hair behind her ear and held her hand in his. 'Shall we head into our new home, my love?'

She grinned hugely at him and kissed him gently. 'Yes… we shall, my darling husband.'

Laughing softly, they entered the house, kicking off their shoes—which Maren presented with a loud groan of relief as she got out of her heels—and heading towards the bedroom. The house had been a surprise wedding present, given to Maren from her friend who owned the place. Maren's friend had been close to her for years, and she didn't trust anyone more than her. She was also moving to Australia with her husband, so naturally, _someone_ needed to fill the house!

So the house was now theirs.

After getting changed out of their wedding clothes, they lay on their bed and got close to each other. Maren's stomach was a bit in the way but Lukas didn't really care for that fact. He had just _married_ her. He was so happy that he couldn't stop kissing her.

'I love you, my lovely wife,' he whispered to her, feeling himself flush when she laughed.

'And I love you, my darling husband,' Maren whispered back. Her hand rested on top of her stomach and she gazed deeply into Lukas' eyes. 'And this little one in here loves you too.'

 **.**

 _July 31st_

 **.**

Sitting in the living room, with Emil sitting on his leg, Lukas winced at the cries coming from the bedroom. They had been sent away upon the arrival of the midwife, as she wanted to give Maren as much breathing room as possible—which was fair, Lukas had to admit. Maren had gone into labour four hours ago, and it was excruciating for Lukas to listen to her groaning and shrieking in pain.

Emil whimpered a little when a particularly loud scream from his mother filled their ears. He curled into Lukas' chest, tucking his head under his chin and hugging his plush puffin—a Christmas gift from his Pappa—tightly against his little body. At this stage in their lives, Emil's day-to-day vernacular had expanded, though his sentences were rather broken, as he asked Lukas, 'Mamma kay? Why Mamma scrweam?' given Maren's cries could be heard through the _entire_ house.

'Mamma's going to be okay,' Lukas told Emil, kissing his hair and holding him close. 'She'll be fine soon enough. We need to be strong for her, yeah?'

Emil nodded hurriedly, trying to put on a brave face as Maren let out another loud cry. Lukas, himself, flinched at the sound. He hated that she was in pain, and he felt responsible for causing it. He _was_ the one who had gotten her pregnant, after all… When she let out another one, Emil whined and hid his face in Lukas' neck. Lukas kissed his head and rocked him gently, assuring him that it was going to be over soon.

Soon ended up being three hours later. When the screaming stopped, Lukas' ears went on alert. His heart rushed in his ears and he swallowed thickly when he heard footsteps coming closer. When the midwife entered the living room, that same heart skipped a beat. She smiled at him and at Emil, who had emerged from his spot in Lukas' neck and was staring curiously at the woman.

'Mother and child are ready to see you Mister Bondevik, Emil,' she told them, a kind expression on her face. 'My congratulations. The birth went smoothly, and both mother and child are healthy.'

Lukas let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. _Thank god… it's all over… they're both good. Everything is okay._ But his body froze as the facts hit him. He was now a new father, a new father to a new child, about to raise them from the day they had been born. While he considered himself Emil's father, Emil had come to him at the tender age of two. This was beyond anything he knew, and he found himself feeling nervous. It both terrified and excited him.

He turned to Emil, whose attention was now focused on him.

'Do you want to go and meet your sibling?' he asked Emil in a soft voice.

Emil looked at him interestedly. 'Sibwing?' he confirmed, his mouth struggling to pronounce the world properly.

'Yes,' Lukas went on, 'you've got a little brother or sister.'

Emil's eyes went round and then his expression turned thoughtful, his eyebrows furrowing together and his lips going into a pout. Then a huge grin split his cheeks and he shouted, 'Yes! Wanna mweet sibwig!'

Lukas couldn't help but laugh and kiss his cheek, earning a half-hearted whine in protest. They then followed the midwife towards the bedroom. Along the way, Lukas licked his drying lips and breathed in deeply several times through his nose. He held Emil tightly, watching as he clutched Mr. Puffin tighter as they got closer to the bedroom. Lukas worried his bottom lip between his teeth when the midwife popped her head into the room, came back out and placed a finger on her lips for them to be quiet. Lukas mimicked her and faced Emil, who immediately copied him and giggled quietly, his large eyes glittering in childish wonder.

Entering the room, Lukas' eyes landed on Maren instantly. She was sitting up in bed, sweat plastering her fair hair to her forehead and there was a little, fond smile on her face. She was flushed pink, her breathing slowly coming back to normal—she looked very tired, but Lukas still thought she looked stunning. In her arms was their newborn, wrapped in a white blanket, and from his place by the door, Lukas could see a tuft of sandy blond hair, just like Maren's, peeking out from the blanket.

Just the sight of the baby made Lukas freeze.

Upon their entry, Maren glanced up and smiled hugely. The smile was enough to make Lukas start moving, and he returned the smile, tiptoeing to the edge of the bed. Emil was staying very still, his big eyes gazing down at the newcomer in his mother's arms.

'Hello, darling,' Maren greeted Lukas groggily.

He kissed her forehead and his eyes went to their baby. Up close, Lukas saw that it was fast asleep, its little hands curled under its chin. It moved a little bit when Maren's finger stroked its cheek delicately, and Lukas felt his heart twang at its strings. This was _his_ child… _their_ child… it sent his mind racing, but there was an odd feeling that passed through him. He wanted to protect this child against anything and everything hostile. It was so small… so vulnerable… and Lukas felt a surge of love burst in his chest.

Maren saw him staring at their baby, then leant towards his ear and whispered into it, 'Say hello to our son, Lukas.'

 _Son._

Lukas nearly cried.

'It's a boy?'

Maren nodded, her eyes sparkling. 'Yes, not quite the little girl we dreamed of, but look at him! He's adorable.'

Lukas couldn't agree more. Taking him in further, Lukas could see that their son was the spitting image of his mother—minus the freckles, although Lukas had the strange feeling that he would develop them later in life. His fair hair, what little there was of it, resembled Maren's _exactly_ , his cute little nose was like Maren's own, the shape of his face, the length of his eyelashes, even the _shape_ of his eyes…

'He looks exactly like you,' Lukas mused in a soft voice.

'I know!' Maren exclaimed in a whisper. 'Amazing, isn't it?'

Nodding slowly, Lukas' mind wandered. He didn't know why, but it wandered back to 1916, back to the frontline hospital at the Somme, back to 1915 at that place between Reims and Verdun, back to that train station when he had first signed up. There was something nagging him at the back of his mind, and when he gazed at their slumbering son, Lukas realised what it was. He smiled at the thought and turned to face his wife.

'Maren?' When she locked eyes with him, he whispered, as to not wake their son up, 'I've got an idea for a name.'

She grinned, her face lighting up. 'Oh? What is it?'

Lukas chose to sit down on the edge of the bed, placing Emil comfortably in his lap. He looked deeply into Maren's eyes and grinned secretively. When all she did was stare at him in confusion, he decided to put her out of her misery.

'Matthias.'

Maren's expression went blank. Then it formed into one of understanding. She chuckled to herself and glanced down at their son.

'Matthias…' She shook her head lightly. 'I wonder where you got that idea from.'

Lukas shrugged. 'I don't know _what_ you mean, my damsel in shining armour.'

Laughing, Maren kissed him softly, lovingly. 'It's perfect,' she said at their mouths. 'Matthias it is.'

'Mattie!'

The parents had been so engrossed in their new child that they hadn't noticed that Emil had clambered onto the bed from Lukas' lap, in between them both, and had been staring curiously at baby Matthias. He had a huge grin, and both Maren and Lukas had to refrain from squealing out loud when Emil leant over and placed a big kiss on Matthias' head. He then looked up at his mother, thinking deeply.

Then he blurted out, as brash as one could be, 'Sister next?'

Maren and Lukas couldn't help but laugh and coo at Emil's question. He blinked up at them, puzzled as to why they were laughing and kissing all over his face.

'Perhaps one day Emil,' Maren told him. 'But Mamma needs a break first.'

Lukas fought a smirk, and chuckled when Maren lightly slapped his arm. While he did want a daughter, his wife's health and condition was a bit more important at this point in time, as was getting to know Matthias a little bit.

 **.**

 _August 23_ _rd_ _, 1921_

 **.**

It was a still night. The moon was high in the sky, the stars sparkling prettily amongst the darkness of the sky. Lukas gazed out the window, determined to remember this day for the rest of his life. He looked down at the little body in his arms and smiled fondly at it.

Emil's wish the previous year about wanting a little sister had come true, as had Maren's and Lukas' wish of wanting a daughter. Their third child had been brought into the world earlier that day, a baby girl no less. Maren was not there with him, having fallen asleep a few hours ago, purely exhausted from the twelve hour labour she had been through to give birth to their baby girl. Lukas had shortly put the boys to bed and had kissed his wife's forehead, whispering against it how proud he was of her, and apologising for causing her pain once more.

Looking down at their daughter, Lukas shook his head in disbelief. Contrary to his original wish of their daughter looking like her mother, the baby girl was the spitting image of _him_ , something which Maren was overjoyed about.

'Look at her, Lukas!' she had cried, grinning hugely at his dumfounded expression. 'She's a mini-you!'

Despite his initial shock, Lukas thought that their daughter was beautiful, to say the least. He had fallen in love with her immediately. He had fallen in love with Emil and Matthias when he had been born, but his daughter was the one who had won him over the moment he had laid eyes on her, nameless and still a little pink. He vowed to her that he would take care of her no matter what, that he would protect her just like he had been protecting his sons, and he vowed to her that she would always have a family who would look out for her.

Rocking her softly as he looked out the window onto the main street of their London home, a gentle smile formed on his face. He turned to face his wife, admiring her sleeping form. She had gotten a haircut the other week, back to that short hair he had loved so much all those years ago, now that short hair was all the rage. Lukas still had to pinch himself to believe that they had gotten married, that she was no longer living with Hexley and that those bruises had long since faded.

They were in paradise, and Lukas was grateful to be in it with Maren.

His attention went back to their daughter. She was sleeping soundly against him, her face nuzzled into his chest and her small hands gripping his shirt. Suddenly overwhelmed, Lukas felt a single tear fall down his cheek and he brushed a finger against the apple of his daughter's cheek.

'Welcome to the world, Svana,' he whispered to her, bending down to press his lips against her forehead. 'May your time in it be a good one.'

The Køhler-Bondevik family was a big one, with three little children. But at twenty-two years old, both Maren and Lukas were the happiest they had ever been.

Who would have thought a meeting on the train to France, years and months of heartache and torture, would lead them to this?

Who would have thought indeed?

Perhaps the wooden swan and nightingale knew, knew from their places on the mantelpiece in the living room, right next to the only photo of Maren and Lukas that had survived the war:

 _September 30_ _th_ _, 1915. "_ _Matthias"_ _Maren Køhler and Lukas Bondevik, in a place between Reims and Verdun._

* * *

 _ **Fin.**_


End file.
